“The clock cannot be right. Oh, my God. What time…, wait it’s fucking Saturday. Saturday! I’m so messed up, what when wrong?” The fleshly and over-sexed 23 year old whispered in her head. A faint and feeble flavor of crotch and cum stuck in her throat like the seasoning of a Christmas goose. The taste vivid on her dry lips; the memory muted by the rounds of rum. Tricia Saratopia, an attractive and confident deli clerk fro...

Chapter 1: Reuniting I faintly remember coming to this house thirty something years ago for play dates when I was allowed and then a few times with my mother to visit during the holidays and different occasions, but I never realized her family called this side entrance the “back” door. Karen did say over the phone to come to the back door near the driveway. And she was right about the front door having too much snow in fr...