Ben stood by the creek, skipping stones. Under his shoes, the ground was wet and muddy. Despite a cool breeze, Ben wore no jacket. Donna, his mother, always complained about this. Haven’t you got any sense? she would ask. Afraid not, he’d reply.
05/21/2007
Posted on 05/21/2007Copyright © 2024 Jim Benz
you are splitting my infinitives!