

Annie Comes Home to RufusThis morning,Annie Comes Home to Rufus
Annie tumbles from the car and onto the driveway. I watch from behind the curtains as Mother and Father trudge behind,
dragging duffles full of god-knows-what (sweatshirts, I figure, and a toothbrush, and gallons and jars of bitter white pills and injections). “Daddy – keys!” she cries,
and his mouth stretches, baring teeth (he smiles, he thinks) as he tosses a jingling cluster. The latch clacks, and Annie comes home. I hover in the kitchen –
I never know what to say. She spots
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Lara Jade.
larajadephotography@gmail.com
l a r a j a d e . c o . uk
i'm flattered you enjoyed my work.
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when she walked, her knees cracked like a pick-up truck driving full-force over a deer carcass.
~stupidvagina
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Don't look at me like that.
~suture
~onewordatatime
Enjoy!
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