Identity by Ali Wilson

  She watched the man get up and walk out of the room and close the door. I smell coffee, she thought to herself. And blood. She looked down at her hands and saw the cracks in her knuckles and the cuts on her palms.

This content is for 12 Short Stories in 12 Months members only.
Log In Register
4 Comments
Newest
Oldest
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments