Sexual Assault, Short Stories

Harebrained Youth

I.   You might even know me. I am instantly recognizable by the way my eyes light up when someone (a man, say) in their mid-forties works the death of Kurt Cobain into casual conversation. Note to self – the word nevermind has implications when uttered in a bar after dark. “He was taken from us much too soon,” they say, as if the Nirvana frontman was beamed up by the grunge extraterrestrials who were good enough…

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