“You don’t like walking out with me”, she said, and sitting down big tears came into her eyes, “but I am handsomer than Madame, my feet are sm...ller al-though my leg is bigger; my shoes are shameful, she would not let me have boots like hers, she said she would send me home; she won’t go home again, if I tell them about her.” Thus she jabbered on in a fume, till she had exhausted herself, her pride wounded, excited much by feasting, by the baudy book and my kiss on her cunt. She talked so fast. Just as my mind began to grapple with these alien ideas, I heard a sound.Footsteps.I wasn’t alone.My heart beat faster. I crouched down in the flowers, peering around. Had one of Winter’s futas found me? Was it Ms. Marcie or Officer Cindy? Or could it be another of them? Like that reporter, Becca Brittany? She had to be one of Winter’s.The footsteps came closer.Kimberly “Kimmie” MillerI set off at a fast march the moment I appeared in the meadows. The grass has a purplish sheen about it. A. More

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