The Albino Black Cowboy

“I gotta slither, sweetheart – there’s no changing that.”

He said it to himself, his snakeskin boots making tracks in the desert. The winds had renewed the sand overnight and the sun was coming up, a deep, fleshy red.

He angled his hat to shut out the flare.

“No point in looking back anyway,” he said. “Back’s where you’ve already been. Nothing to see there but what you’ve seen before, just from a new perspective.” Read the rest of this entry »