”She looked at Peggy, “Flu.”My mother said, “Ms. Sloane.”Auntie Pru nodded, “Of course,” and looked at me, “Fucking mouth closed.”Gi...raltar Soup, which no longer makes much soup, or maybe they do, it’s just not as important as when Grandpa Gibraltar first started selling blue and white cans of tomato soup out of his station wagon to grocery stores. Now it’s trucks and mattresses, and who knows what all?Well, Ms. Sloane would, she’s one of those people who knows things. You know the type.The. It only makes sense. After all, we had been dancing and drinking for what seemed like hours. Our bodies had been swaying, grinding and tangling in tune with every song. It was our flesh that became instruments, caressing, colliding, and plucking until just the right frenzy chords had been stricken. All that build up, all that heat and frenetic energy only making us crave more.And the autumn night air was crisp, every breath like a cold sweet wind pulled into our lungs. The dark sky overhead. More

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