[or what Nate did on his time off]
By Colleen Foley
Kaia was not sated. But for now I was sweaty, bloody, and on my knees before her.
Her chocolate silk accent washed over me like balm, soothing welts on my back and mind.
Nate, are but one thread on a loom. Every thread that interweaves with
yours touches your life in some way. Your brother, your uncle, friends
long dead and even people and …things you have yet to meet. Some of that tale can be seen by such a one as me. The tapestry you are weaving is dark, indeed.
She gestured to the dish of food.