Memory fragment
A night in a kitchen with a girl last spring. Her kitchen. Alcohol on the table. Wine in her glass, rye in mine. Tattoos the topic of conversation, examples of which twist up her left arm.
She nods at something I've said. She says, "There's a certain appeal in exploring your own dark side."
She nods at something I've said. She says, "There's a certain appeal in exploring your own dark side."
