“How’re you feeling?” (…)
Cris said in a quiet voice,
since loud sounds made funny white stars shoot across his vision. “Day I mustered out of the Army, I downed a
bottle of swill bourbon. Woke up the
next morning in underwear not my own, hugging a balsam on a Christmas tree
farm. This isn’t so bad. Thanks for getting me back here.”
“I knew you’d rather throw up
at home,” Dria deadpanned.
(from Pulp Reality
2 published by Charles
Millhouse)
8½*/10.
The complete review is here.
.
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