Mar 23, 2012

My Cousin's Name is Strontium, Too

I’d only been working two days at the Divine Steakhouse when this hulking Russian came in with a smelly wet package under his arm.
“Table for one?” I ventured.
He pocketed his sunglasses. One of his eyes was a violent bloody red.
“You smart, you leave now,” he said.

*

I'd like to think that this painting hung in the foyer of the Divine Steakhouse.

Ewelina Koszykowski



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