Nerves shot, she tripped on the cobblestone walkway. A brown and white dog sniffed at her heels. There was something red on its nose. She stooped down but halted before touching him. The mutt snarled, baring its teeth. Blood dripped from his snout to its mouth.
Her ex lived in a strip mall-heavy neighborhood. There was a sex-video shop on the corner. Next to it was a coffee shop that looked like it was still serving the dregs of a pot from 1958. Just the right area for her ex, a broken down fighter who once swaggered around the old neighborhood in shiny clothes, a wad of cash in his pocket, a sweet smile and a way with the ladies. Continue reading “Ralph by Dana DuGan”