All the Pretty Little Horses

Dre considered. Not for the sexually gratifying possibilities, but because of the duck. That happy yellow duck with those gentle, cleansing hands. The duck didn’t have to do anything other than be, and the hands did everything else, washing away the blackness that there was no hope of dealing with alone.

Can Canned Can Can ?

But that familiar old feeling was so strong. Like she was running on a treadmill and giving it everything she had, and still going nowhere. Figuratively, anyone. Beyond the fact that she had come home and since then had literally gone nowhere. It didn’t seem to matter how many hospitals she built, how many orphanages, how many schools. They were drops in a bottomless bucket.