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The thing about loving someone was that they knew all your pressure points. They knew all the spots that were open and raw. You let them into your heart and they cased the place.
His Daddy used to say you didn’t call a fish dumb because it couldn’t climb a tree.
“It’s a fucking curse, is what it is,” he said. “Money can’t fix it and love can’t tame it. Push it down deep and it rots you from the inside out. Give in to it and you end up doing five years in some hellhole.
Violence is a Montage family tradition.”
The dying light of day cast their shadows against the far wall. Their silhouettes overlapped, entwined like lovers.
