"i hate you,” i spit and you laugh a short, staccato laugh, cloud of blue-gray smoke billowing from your dangerous mouth.
“no, you don’t,” you tell me.
but i do, i do.
i really do.
YOU ARE READING
obruent
Short Story"i've got a gun for a mouth and a bullet with your name on it." this is the story of how they fell apart. [other #758 // short story #520]
