A remittance man. And son of a pig,’ she grunted, baring her teeth. ’ He clenched his fists and grew red in the face. Without a single ornament about her neck, or hair, wearing the plainest of black gowns, out of which her shoulders shone gleaming white, she was easily the most noticeable and the most distinguished-looking woman in the room. She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. It was the last thing she felt like drinking. Wild had escaped. As you brew so must you drink. Wood.
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