My Arts Editor, that is. The headpiece.
It sits in the entryway hanging from a hook, vaguely menacing. Some night I’ll awaken to see someone slinking around in it.
It’ll be weird.
My Arts Editor, that is. The headpiece.
It sits in the entryway hanging from a hook, vaguely menacing. Some night I’ll awaken to see someone slinking around in it.
It’ll be weird.