by Paige Turner
He always shouts like a typewriter and each syllable rings hard and clean. Each name comes out thick and strong, so I know they're all meant for me. I've never met anyone who knew how to say "bitch" that way. Then his beautiful mouth, his filthy mouth, tells me how I'm precious. He holds me close and I can hear his heart; each beat rises hard and clean. I'm leaving before October starts.
Paige Turner writes for a living and is infatuated with her pen name.