FOGGY

 


In the damp, morning air, her breath puffed like floss in the dawn. She blessed her forethought luring him to the rendezvous in the boathouse. There was nothing to carry, she just rolled him in to the boat, bound and weighted and set off. Foggy morning, she thought, clear head.


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Published on August 02, 2017 07:41
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Postcard from a Pigeon

Dermott Hayes
Musings and writings of Dermott Hayes, Author
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