The fog rolls gently in, and a single owl shrieks from behind the thick trunks, and in the lake the light reflects so accurately and precisely that one single star can be seen at the center of the black pool, and, looking closer, it’s actually a plane, where inside sit Clarissa and Dwight, newlyweds. Dwight, “dishonorably discharged” from his previous marriage as he liked to say under certain circumstances such as those of drinking whisky and feeling a pervasive sense of masculine energy and perhaps waxing emotional absent the occurrence of a full moon, the condition of which would sometimes add another layer of melancholic sentimentality to Dwight’s memories of his former wife, the actress Petunia March (known perhaps best for her rendition of Antigone at the Grecian Borzniak Theatre), sat with one hand cupping a green alcoholic beverage and the other cupping one of Clarissa’s ample breasts. She’d knocked out, and they weren’t even two hours into their red-eye flight.
Street Address
City, State, Zip
Phone Number
Your Custom Text Here