ANNAPOLIS EYES • by Debra Easterling
Click. The meter turns over again. My fingers thump the door handle to the beat of Anchors Away. I clutch my dark blue duffle bag to my chest. If I was smart, I’d let the driver take me to the… Continue Reading
Click. The meter turns over again. My fingers thump the door handle to the beat of Anchors Away. I clutch my dark blue duffle bag to my chest. If I was smart, I’d let the driver take me to the… Continue Reading