Tag Archives: Fiction

Muscle Memory

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest; pounding in function, not in pain. He was alive damn it! He knew he was alive. He could feel his body screaming at the demands he was placing on it. Sweat mixed with humidity, making his clothes feel heavier than cotton should ever feel. Part of him wished he could just strip down and run free. What would these people think of that? What would she think of that? continue reading …

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Claudelle Kendrick, bless her heart, was the very living, breathing definition of what some used to call white trash; though she never once gave any indication that she might know anything of how people considered her. In fact, she completely managed to convince herself that the stares and whispers were people talking about her inevitable breakthrough to supermodel status. continue reading …

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