Bending over the cash box – pretending to count the float – I inhale the sharp, tin scent of well-handled small change and lick my lips. Continue reading “It must be Fête (short story)”
Bending over the cash box – pretending to count the float – I inhale the sharp, tin scent of well-handled small change and lick my lips. Continue reading “It must be Fête (short story)”