Thirty six exposures
This is a work of fiction. Thirty-six exposures It was just a simple manila envelope, my name and address labeled dead center—the words “photographs, do not bend” stenciled across the bottom. I’d grabbed it out of the mailbox with a thick handful of other letters and was halfway across the porch before I realized what it was. I absently jiggled it for a second and then dropped myself into one of the old rockers we had out there,the other bills and junk left scattered across my lap as I ripped...
Incest