The Chronicles of Ms. Lanning
She sat at the far end of the bar, bathed in caramel light and the wispy thoughts of Marlboro Ultra-Lights while she sipped tediously on her raspberry long island iced-tea. She flicked the ashen phallus of her cigarette into the ashtray with an indiscriminate flick of her thumb; she never ashed on the floor. That kind of thing was left →
