Mr.Anderson had never been to a brothel. Magnolias creeping through his windowpane spread a gentle fragrance over the room. Rusty bolts of the door creaked in winter wind, left an echo of loneliness. He missed his wife. Ever since she left him and eloped with some Mr.Bastard of Santa Cruz , Mr.Anderson stopped pouring water to the roses.
View original post 1,307 more words