Night Train 16
My quality woman, Corliss…that was her name, Corliss. Papageorgopoulou was right. She wasn’t young. Her hands were fish-belly white and they were speckled with brown spots. She had peach fuzz on her cheeks and an eye that wandered. Nevertheless, it all went swimmingly at first. She moved me into the pool shed and set me up with a computer and all. She started me out writing her autobiography. She’d record her shticks and I’d transcribe it from a disk. It was great fun being on the Internet... Sign in to see full entry.