This is a story about rape and domination and love and loss and happiness in the middle of war. People are complex. They do not understand themselves. She does not understand how she could come to love her dominator.
I got an e-mail from a friend concerning his messy divorce that somehow just got a whole lot nastier this week. I don’t have any details and it’s really not any of my business, but it gave me the idea for this story.
There's a loud voiced stranger in the bar one night and what he he has to say, gets another regular drinker thinking. Just short little tale about something and nothing.
It was a lousy night at work. Even thought it was a slow night I wasn’t even batting 100. Actually I was a lot lower. My first three cases had died on the table. I wasn’t very successful that night.
This is an old story of crime and punishment, as old as human history. Can the punishment for the crime ever end? Maybe it is possible, for some, but not others. Maybe it is possible for everyone. Who knows such things? You be the judge.