His parents named him David, but his friends on the streets of Key West called him Dougie. He was fifty-five years old but if you didn’t know that you might guess his age at seventy. He was a familiar sight… Continue Reading
Prisoner number 547812 presses his hand against the glass, spreading his fingers wide and as flat as he can make them. His voice is urgent as he speaks into the phone. “Babe, I love ya. I know ah’ve been bad… Continue Reading
“What’s this, the rumble in the ruddy jungle?” Jackson wasn’t amused. “Can’t you two keep your fists out of each other’s gobs for ten minutes?” Ray tried to dislodge my heel. The punch I’d thrown had laid him out like… Continue Reading