Sunday

The House the Wolf Built

LOBO -Predator Press

Fuck.

There is that sound again.

The sound of millions of screams inflicting agony.

I know that sound. That note.

It has been dacades.

And here was a guy a mere two houses down, in the front yard, enduring that sound like dragonfire as she bumped noses with him.

I saw his life die in his eyes.

Hope fell away as easily as his scorched flesh.

Should I give her my exes phone number so they can exchange notes?