"Look at me."
Look at me.
It was all that people ever said. Even when she was looking them straight in the eye, they felt as though she were staring right though them. She did, in a way, she saw nothing inside them. They were only hollow vessels.
She once again looked at a person but only saw the late afternoon sun that blazed high up in the sky. It was a hot day in August. Marseille 1971.
"Look at me, I won't say this again. If you want to do something unlawful, at least do it while I'm not looking", the Sergeant motioned his hand for her to stand up and leave.
It was a hot day in Marseille, 1971.
YOU ARE READING
La Pute
EspiritualA French underdog and a Sardinian gun broker are forced to run when the underworld abandons them.
