Rosie & June “It’s hotter’n Satan’s nutsack.” Rosie shoved a lollipop in her mouth. “Satan’s nutsack?” June glanced over from the driver seat. “Really?” Rosie shrugged, staring between tall pines, blending as they sped past. Louisiana was a convection oven, especially in summer. And they'd spent ample time unsticking thighs from leather seats since crossing state …

Continue reading Short Fiction: Rosie & June Get a Room.