This story reads like an outtake from a Paul Thomas Anderson movie, or a story I can imagine being told to me in a bar, like the one I sat in while my now dead uncle played black jack with a man whose car had broken down, conveniently for my uncle, right outside the road side casino we were holed up in. They played cards until the man waiting for the tow truck ran out of money.
Continue reading “Escape” by Deborah Willis
































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