At the very core of her being was dysfunction. Her car windows were tinted and it always smelled of cherries. She played the piano like the storm she was. She always had her nails done. “Officer, here’s my license and registration” she said for 20th time that year. She loved her drugs. Her momma was a nurse and her medicine cabinet was always stocked. After some white lines, she kissed me. She was pure chaos.
The Art of Never Ending Questions | Multidisciplinary