
Drunk on Freedom, Dancing with the Jinn
NaBloPoMo. NaNoWriMo. NaNoBloWriPoMo… “There’s just no redeeming this month, is there?” I asked Emmett, dejectedly. “Sure there is,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. He emerged from my kitchen bearing a large Mason jar full of freshly-squeezed pineapple juice. “Where did you get that?” I asked. I hadn’t bought pineapples or juice in a while. Read More …