Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.

Passersby ignored the frail, shivering thing, their eyes never dropping, their heads never turning. She might have been a doll in a window, or something someone left behind. Sh...   [Read more...]

The coat was ragged. No, not ragged - raggedy. Tatterdemalion in some circles. Tatty, to his mother.

Love, to Matilda.

She slept in the pockets, wrapped herself in the arms and nibbled anxiously at the buttons.

Button.

He'd worn this coat ...   [Read more...]

Gene loved the smell of leather. He loved the smell of Heather wearing leather. He loved Heather in leather and the smell and the idea of the smell and the smell of the smell always left him crazed and wanting. He couldn't help himself. He d...   [Read more...]