By: Ann Christine Tabaka Overhead a fan slowly spins, as the heat of the night closes in on me. Beginning of the end or end or the beginning, not knowing which way to turn. I close my eyes. I see brilliant…
By: Ann Christine Tabaka Overhead a fan slowly spins, as the heat of the night closes in on me. Beginning of the end or end or the beginning, not knowing which way to turn. I close my eyes. I see brilliant…