Broadway Butterfly

by Sara DiVello

Coughlin cleared his throat, never much good with emotions or women.

Everyone, Julia had learned, found a way to paint themselves as the heroes in their own stories.

The night air was clear and crisp, but all he could smell was trouble.

Coughlin’s anger surged that Guimares would have the balls to change his alibi yet again.

Is this term they used in thr 20s

Coughlin resisted the urge to grab him by the lapels and beat the tar out of him.

Her job was to write the news, not be one of the boys.

She would walk into the sea and let herself sink.

For a moment, it was just the two of them and nothing else mattered. “Aw, jeez. I’m gonna be sick,” Hellinger said, breaking the spell.

But spinsters were unencumbered by foolish husbands who dragged them into the fiery clutches of hell.

though it was so tangled up with being homesick for family and Tennessee, it was hard to parse out each “missing-ness,”

“Oh, I couldn’t say. A lady never concerns herself with money.” Coughlin bit back a warning about ladies staying in hotels with men who weren’t their husbands.