The tip of my finger touches the drop of sweat from your shoulder.
My mind is white heat.
finger
Nine
Jon looked down. His ring was missing from his hand. So was his finger. Then, with the pain, the memory flooded back.
Not a cent
The man who helped pull my car out the ditch wouldn’t take any money. Not a cent. Just my little finger to wear on a string round his neck.
simonsalento 