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Show Motherlunge a novel 115 Calvin looked at me then, narrowing his blue eyes a little. "Nice?" He smiled, and my heart spun in my chest like a flower on a thin stem in the wind. He reached out for my forearm and pressed it as if checking for substance "Well, it's not nice. It's simply not ugly. There's never any need to act ugly." Then he was striding away from us down the street, the picnic basket hooked over his elbow. The red soles of his buck shoes turned up in a rolling visual rhythm as he walked away from us, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. As you beat your way into the world, my girl, remember what he said. |
