It Hurts to Go Home

They said so cheap. Have to have dinner. I said, no problem. Please go to restaurant get the menu. We'll choose.

unhappy with the way the restaurant is that she makes a scene about everything that she finds unsatisfactory and decides to give the waiter no tip.

“Bring someone,” she had said with a smile that always meant mischief, so here I was with Miller, in the back seat of Scottie’s car on our way to Anita’s, where we would get drunk off whatever we could find in her mom’s liquor cabinet and whatever Scottie brought us. Tonight, it was some red wine (“Fifty dollar Cabernet Sauvignon, not just wine,” Anita had scolded) and lemon-flavored vodka with grapefruit juice, because that’s all we could find in the fridge. I’d had about two and a half glasses of each by the time Anita said, “Let’s go to the Woodgate church!”

“You now, if you want I could give you a ride to your house when my shift ends,” answered the waitress.

“Alright, you two. The party's over. You don't have to go home, but you've got to get the hell out of here.”

I stopped in front of the broad glass door leading onto her patio. Right now, with the blackness outside and the light inside, it was a mirror, and she could see how her dress was turned into a purple tent by the sheer bulk of my cock. She saw how her toes dangled above the floor. There was no word from her, but she reached back with her hands and clutched at the back of my head.

“Thanks for dinner Peris” mumbled Tally. And with that, they were back off the the “Pretty Party House”

The guards were laughing. A stark contrast to the soviet guns strapped to their shoulders and the poster of an angry stalin behind them. Her heart pumped furiously, Pavel's truck hummed benieth her, occasionally making sikening jolts forward in the line. Katya tried to concel her small boney ten year old body in the empty flour sacks and blankets behind the warm Pavels seat. She was too frail, her months of starvation had eaten away her muccles. The truck door slid open, white light, Russian whispers echoed to her. They knew she was here, and only death could follow.

She raised her voice, gritted her teeth in anger as she pointed toward the front door, “I want you out of here this instant! Take that boy’s dog with you. Benjamin will get another one, but you won’t get it for him.” Louise was speechless as Betty escorted her to the front door. Still shaking, she said. “As long as my husband is mayor, and you’re the President of the Women’s Club, I’ll work with you when I see fit, but don’t expect anything extra because you won’t get

Showboating she exclaimed, “I need you to prepare the invitations and send them to my guests. I will provide you their addresses. I need you to handle the confirmations, and provide me a total guest count.”

Alexievich’s book portrays a bleak time during the decade in which the Soviet Army was at war with Afghanistan. In many cases veterans of this war that returned had been deeply scarred and full of tension and a hatred that could not be alleviated. Many of these accounts, from officers, enlisted

“No, I’m not going to listen to someone who tried to kidnap me.” Then I sprinted out the door as fast I could.

Daniel began to feel like he was sobering up in a matter of seconds. He hated when this happened, and with Maggie it happened quite a lot. Send him away, he mentally told her.

“Oh yes. Thank you Mrs. Hudson. I don’t know what we would do if you weren 't

“I’m not getting drunk, but I can enjoy a few indulgences.” His eyes lingered on her lips.