I didn't respond to him. Couldn't speak at all. Couldn't look at his self-mutilation--not even the clean, bandaged version of it. Instead, I looked at my own rough, stained house painter's hand. They seemed more like puppets than hands. I had no feelings in it either.
Wally LambAbout author
- Author's profession: Author
- Nationality: american
- Born: October 17, 1950
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