Tell Us Three Things About Yourself, One of Which is a Lie by Sharon Telfer
One: my grandmother was a Russian countess. She smoked gold-tipped cigarettes that jabbed from her mouth like blackened twigs.
One: my grandmother was a Russian countess. She smoked gold-tipped cigarettes that jabbed from her mouth like blackened twigs.
The breakfast sun melts over him like butter. I run my hands across his dips and hollows. No one else comes close like this – feels him soften in the slanting dawn, sees his stern facade pink and gild.