The Eyes: a short story
"It’s the blood I remember most,” I said. “He nearly slipped when he came to get me.”
Kemma’s body tightened. Her eyelashes fluttered against my neck in a rapid staccato. I pulled the coarse sheet up and over her shoulder.
Little blue pills: a study of addiction
The plastic bag of groceries sagged as Jenny put it on the counter. With the blinds drawn, the flat was dark, musty, and silent. That was good. The lack of electricity would only serve to intensify her success if she overcame the cravings.