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Chapter 4 Part 3
December 19th, 2012
Evening
Damon
“We forgot about the news yesterday!” Sasha is sat at the other end of the couch, her toes just inches from my thigh. I’m really not sure when I became corrupted by fantasies of her feet. They’re quite pretty. Long, slender. Straight toes. Cropped, painted nails. Protruding veins. I can imagine them padding at my crotch a little too vividly. My jeans are a bit tight.
“Tarantino’s film was scrapped because of Sandy Hook.” I watch as she squints, probably trying to remember her own headline.
“They dug up those two murderer blokes from In Cold Blood,”
I don’t want to tell her she’s won by kilometres just yet. “Why?”
“Something about some murders in Florida,” So I just nod quietly, pretending to turn it over for a moment. I wonder how I managed to let that one slip through the cracks. I’ve only read the novel
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