Lion Head Mesa twenty-third

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it was not his fault that each drawled word felt like a scorched insult against her ears.

her gaze held no warmth beyond a burning anger. did men simply desire to do nothing but insult her? when she stood upright it was with a rigid posture.

tell me, hem, she laced her words with a pungent venom. do you too find me an idiot? have i somehow ascended to a throne with a head full of stupidity?