I Bring Her Diamonds. My Hands Are Full Of Them

I bring her diamonds. My hands are full of them. “Please,” she sobs heavily, “stop coming back.” I had no money for diamonds, once. When my car crashed, the exploding windshield sent diamonds rushing deep into me – my eyes, throat, hands – all shining in the moonlight. The pain was overwhelming. And then it … Continue reading I Bring Her Diamonds. My Hands Are Full Of Them