Erin Barteski
Joined July 2020
17 stories
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The Stories We Tell Ourselves
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Trepidation
“His touch was like heroin in my veins, and I was a grateful addict.” ― Kitty Thomas I opened the door and stepped into the room. The late afternoon sun was streaming in through the glass and laid in a puddle across the middle of the wood floor. The room was mostly bare, except for a couch located alongside the far wall. It didn’t appear that anyone actually lived here.
By Erin Barteski5 years ago in Filthy
