The Adventures of a Dog Whore
Rachael Ross (edited) I was in the park, my usual spot for a warm Sunday afternoon. It was nice and clean after a long week of spring rains, everything had turned green and the sky scrubbed blue. Not a cloud in it. And I’d found a good spot near an old beech tree to put my big quilt comforter. It was old and a bit ragged, a classic patchwork of fabrics, hand stitched by my own grandmother before I was
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