Angelica poked her swollen lower lip and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. It was mid-January and the harmattan breeze still hung thickly in the atmosphere. The air was thin and sharp, soaking up the moisture in her lips like a sponge and threatening to slice through them. Angelica hated having parched lips. Sucking on them was the best tranquilizer she knew how to … Continue reading Blitz

Rate this: