guitar_and_gun
Jun 17, 2007 22:56
El stared at the bottle of rum, thinking about drinking it.
It wasn't his fault, really. It wasn't. There was nothing he could have done about it. He barely knew the girl.
And then the phone started ringing. He reached out and tentatively touched it, looking at the caller ID.
Then he answered it.
"Hello?"
el pistolero,
attic,
thelma,
angst,
el