He saw her in the produce section of the grocery, smirking at him over the apples and pears. She was out on parole after twenty years in the state prison. He had helped put her away when he was still very young.
No longer a boy, and less a wonder, he was making his own way in the world. The old boss, starting to go a little batty, had finally hung up his dark cape, and now he kept to his man cave.
She was older and less feline, but still attractive.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Maybe a saucerful,” she purred.
B. C. Nance is a writer who hasn't given up his day job. A native of Nashville, Tennessee, he works by day as a historical archaeologist. At night, after roaming his neighborhood, he writes fiction and poetry, then stays up too late reading.
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