I ran my palms along her edges and peered into her joints. Why did I lose myself in the narrative here? How was that transition so effortless?
Read MoreBarrelhouse Reviews: IF THIS WERE FICTION by Jill Christman
Jill Christman
I ran my palms along her edges and peered into her joints. Why did I lose myself in the narrative here? How was that transition so effortless?
Read More