Olath

OlathUnwise the boast that had me with my back against the bar, elbows hooking it, shoulders sore from my weight slung between. The line of waiting men was long. They were laughing, the men, pretending it was all in good fun, like my boast had been, but when each stepped up to face me his jaw would set and his eyes would narrow and he meant for his punch to hurt, to disarrange my innards, to rupture something even and send the juices of one organ slurping onto the next. Each man would look into...