Today's OneWord: Account
He wanted my story. My account of the whole ordeal. But two swollen black eyes gave me very little to visually reminisce. And my tongue was so dry, I thought I'd swallow it like a large vitamin served to me at breakfast.
"Well?"
I had nothing except the touch, the feel of it. The spherical knuckles orbiting my eyebrows. The feel of water on my cheeks. The spittle of rage on my chin.
"I can't tell this story. Not now, anyway."
"Well?"
I had nothing except the touch, the feel of it. The spherical knuckles orbiting my eyebrows. The feel of water on my cheeks. The spittle of rage on my chin.
"I can't tell this story. Not now, anyway."
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