figg_0
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Lewis Nixon has been on his last nerve, but he knows better than to fill up a whole sheet of paper with how much he dislikes somebody. Not pleasant to write about and certainly not pleasant to read. He has this latent desire to make his accounts something that DeEtta likes to get beyond the simple joy of receiving word from a friend. They deserve to have some kind of entertainment value.
All the same, he walks across the Fort Benning fields in the newfound heat of April to the post office and lets himself just think for a second what he might say to DeEtta if he wasn’t worried about being a bother.
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Or the drafts of letters that pile up in Dick's mind when he starts considering what he WOULD write about NixonBookmarked by figg_0
16 Sep 2024
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The concrete floor makes Ray shiver, but the cold is a refreshing change from back alleys, open pastures, forest floors; he’s half-certain the last time he slept under a roof was the bordello in Austin and he certainly can’t remember the last time he stayed in one town for more than a single night. It hardly matters now, anyway. Stuck. Between the soft breathing of stranger-hicks in this tumbleweed town, waiting for dawn and for his friends to bail him out.
Bookmarked by figg_0
17 May 2024