Securely under the crook of the man’s arm was something wrapped in cloth. He pushed on even as a wound in his side spilled blood against the forests...�� floor. There were shouts off distance echoing from a good mile behind the man…the yelping and growling of canines. It could be no mistake, death called through the glade just as profusely as the dogs snarled and blood trickled. In a furious abandon she gathered the air around her essence. A chill took the air and the wind began to pick up lifting. Lime, rum, cane syrup and ice. He prepares two drinks and hands one to Scuford, then puts on some music. Mast Mast from Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, transcending rhythms to free the mind. After two sips of punch, he sits on the couch next to him. Without help of his hands, Scuford gets rid of his tennis shoes. R Tur imitates his action and they both look at their toes, laughing.R Tur looks at his boyfriend, taking in his image: his apparent calm, his smile, makes him crack. His hands are slightly. More

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