or the eighth. I started to think I really was crazy. I hadn’t been eating much at all, instead giving most of my meals to the prison’s Fat Man. We called him Groove, because his apish arms had actually worn valleys in the fat at his sides. It wasn’t pretty to look at, but I’m sure he was very comfortable. I tried to have a conversation once, but he was too busy eating to answer me, so I gave up.
Table of ContentsPreludeThe First NightThe Second NightThe Third NightThe Fourth NightThe Fifth NightThe Sixth NightThe Seventh NightThe Eigth NightThe Ninth NightThe Tenth NightEpilogue©2004-2009 Kris Brower All Rights Reserved