Maybe it was the way her thumb slid evenly over the business edge of the butterknife, or the manner in which her mouth smirked up manically at the left towards the mole on her cheek. Either way, Bradley knew, that in five short seconds, his cajones would join his appendix in a doggy bag.
Bradley gets her name wrong at breakfast.
About the Author: saaleha
I am a freelance writer and photographer (look for me as ShootCake). I have an MA in Creative Writing from the university currently known as Rhodes and some of my work has appeared in local literary journals. A food pornographer by calling, I would like to one day create a confessional recipe book in measures of rhythm and breath.