He scratched his upper lip reflectively. ‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here. ’ Joan sniffed. She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. He drew a little breath and stepped back.
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