A natural born survivalist. (like you've gotta be when you're born into this sh*thole) Ever viglilant. (I'm impressed) She is rough, perhaps even more so than me. And,God, she's beautiful... just like her mother. But her face is tougher, jaw tighter- on edge. A tarit she has inherited from this wasteland wilderness... and probably from my genetic arrogance. She has a mouth on her. Quiet, but when she does speak she doesn'ttake any sh*t. Not for me. Not from anyone.
Pale hair whiplash. Calloused fingers caress a trigger. Wreckless, loaded barrel pressed nearly into my brains- threatening.
"What the F**K do you want, old man?!"
Spit sprays my cheek. (Furious.)
Sunshine and Bullets.
I could get used to this.
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