The bullet didn’t have my name on it.
Or Naomi’s.
Or Mom’s.
Or even Holt’s.
It had yours.
seventy-seven
The bullet didn’t have my name on it.
Or Naomi’s.
Or Mom’s.
Or even Holt’s.
It had yours.
The bullet didn’t have my name on it.
Or Naomi’s.
Or Mom’s.
Or even Holt’s.
It had yours.