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About San Jose

We talk, she’s cool, calls herself Ruby. Says she’s from Jersey, ran from some asshole stepdad. I’m like, “Damn, girl, you’re tougher than me in the ring!” She laughs, says, “Gotta be, Creed.” Happy as shit hearin’ that—love a fighter. Reminds me of Plainview screamin’, “I’m finished!” but she ain’t done, she’s grindin’. I’m thinkin’, maybe I’ll slip her extra, fuck the pimp, let her keep it.

Homme mûr pour plaisir a deux (57)

But then there’s our parks. Have you been to Oakcrest Park? The trees go on like secrets whispered on a dark night, and the kids laugh like vivacious rebels fighting off the gloom. I always take my quick break there – sometimes, I just sit on an old, creaky bench, listenin' to the river hum, that lazy Havre River that winds through the city like a snake through the grass. And the view of the old brick bridge on River Bend? Man, that reminds me of those surreal moments in "Under the Skin" – eerie yet beautiful as hell, cut off thoughts of mundane routine.

Obituary | Annie Evelyn Bulman of Havre, Montana