Aww. Finn.
“You sure, boo?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Cheryl. I can make it to the terminal.”
* * * *
Damn me, my pride, my sore wrist, my tender c**k, and Tumblr! Every time I went to check on my fundraising campaign—literally every five or ten minutes all day every day—I’d get pulled in by Beach Bum Bums and Balls, Locker Room Lotharios, or Celebrity d**k Slips. Maybe I was late leaving the house. I was definitely late leaving the house, on a day I should have allowed extra time, no less, because getting to the bus stop in a rush about a week later nearly killed me. At least it felt that way.
Tired of holding it up, against doctor’s orders, I dragged my busted leg a good four or five feet through a fresh coating of wintery powder. “Don’t even let it touch the ground.” A man had to do what a ma
