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In the train

Jacob and katie walked back from the hotdog stand near the metro. ‘get some sauerkraut up in this bith homie” Jacob said, as he grabbed a full handful of Katie’s juicy ass. The hotdog man grunted back “Aint no sauerkraut up in this here bitch lessin you a hog or a cattle” Dumbfounded, Jacob’s grip

Introduction

Who gets to own our memories? Our hopes and dreams? Our thoughts? If you share a memory or a story, does the act of sharing it diminish it in some way? Are memories like sacred magical items, which can only be touched by a few clean hands? Are they to be protected in velvet lined