jackculbertson7
looking at his finger he decided at that very moment what he was going to do. A whim? Yeah. He was known for that. Why the hell not. Work was shitty. and he had to stay there at least another 10 hours. Christmas. Christ. How unfair. So he cut it off.
summer isn't a time or a place. Summer is a name. My name. But not my original, real, birth name. Not the one that mom gave me. Not the one that dad must have spent months thinking of, Daniel. Nope. Summer is the name of the man I'm looking for. Of the man I intend to kill.