Puck Me, One More Time
I stood there with the leash in my left hand and the empty box in my right, and I looked at them — at their faces, at the way they were folded over each other with the specific delight of people who had stumbled into something better than they planned for — and I felt the heat of it move through my chest clean and clear.
‘You son of a bitch, Ken Blair.’
The thought didn't stay in my head. It landed in my chest and sat there with full weight.
"Who is your master, doggy?" Eric had graduated from laughter into performance now, his voice pitching up as he looked around at his team to make sure they were watching. He bent slightly at the knees, his arms out, and his fingers curled in the full imp