trailing words from her fingers in streaks across the brick walls
06:00 pm April 14th, 2008
Angry Alex is angry
I'll skip any preamble: I read a story, I disliked it strongly, I am now ranting about it.
It's been published for a few years, so maybe these points have already been raised, but I read it recently and am filled with a lot of dislike for it. Thus, a rant.
You took my hand and led me down to watch a papillon parade, and we let the kittens lick our hair and drink our chalky lemonade. You squeezed my hand and told me softly that I shouldn't be afraid 'cause all the while your finger's resting gently on the masterfade, the masterfade.
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