He smiled revealing those too white teeth. Be my guest. He held out a shaky hand. Sharp dirty yellowed nails. And he didn't move. I squeezed by, as the bus shuddered to a stop I was jetted back onto his lap. And that's when I felt him hard under me.
"That's for you little red."
He blew smoke rings up to the roof of the bus as he said it. Smirking and staring deep into my soul.
My anger came of age that moment. And I sat back down. He'd not live to regret this. And I'd see nan tomorrow.
Neville Hunt about 5 years ago
Good on yer, girl!