“It tastes better than my foot in your a*s. Leave.”
The alien grinned, as if he had some clever comeback, but he left.
That one was trouble.
Another end to a long-a*s day.
Gemma sat on the wooden steps that led to the apartment above the shop. She held a worn photograph. Evening sunlight pooled around her, catching the blond highlights in her hair.
She looked up at the sound of the back door opening, hastily stuffing the photo into a pocket.
“Let me see,” Emry said, heaving the garbage bag into the dumpster before reaching for the photo.
“Gross. Hands.” Gemma moved the photo out of reach.
She rolled her eyes but wiped her hands down her jeans, like that would help.
The photo paper felt fragile to the touch, like it would crumble under the weight of time and memories. A tall man st
