“Why are they having all that awful fun?” Louisa hissed, standing before their hotel window overlooking the pool. Hands over her ears, she could still hear sharp screams of pre-pubescent pleasure, slaps against the surface…
Prose, Poetry, and Art since 1956
“Why are they having all that awful fun?” Louisa hissed, standing before their hotel window overlooking the pool. Hands over her ears, she could still hear sharp screams of pre-pubescent pleasure, slaps against the surface…