Ointment

OINTMENT Anthony Ferguson Cody Wyatt sat on a park bench overlooking the river, watching her breath condense in front of her face. She tried to convince herself it was too cold to be out. It was a bad idea. She should just walk away now. She belched and the hint of ethanol on her breath told her otherwise. Rubbed her bleary eyes, half raw from drink, the other half her angry tears. She knew she was in for the long hall. Too late to turn back. Try as she might…