Jamón, Jamón
“The harsh light of a June morning comes crashing through the shutters as she wrenches them open to expose me to daylight. 7am. “It’s my birthday,” I grunt, tired, reddened eyes squinting at this cruel torturer.”
“The harsh light of a June morning comes crashing through the shutters as she wrenches them open to expose me to daylight. 7am. “It’s my birthday,” I grunt, tired, reddened eyes squinting at this cruel torturer.”