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Weekly Contest #160
“I hate the smell of salt. I feel like all I do is look at salt, feel salt, taste salt, smell salt. I feel like I’m gonna metamorphose into a big, salt butterfly. Oh, fuck…” I trailed off. “What?” Amber looked at me over their knitting needles from a cross-legged position on the roof of my car. “Nothing. I just burned myself,” I muttered. I hopped off of the hood of my red Toyota and tossed my cigarette butt to the ground. “Jesus, Pep, you’re gonna set fire to the campground. Stomp it out well, alright? Besides, you shoul...
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