“If My Daughter’s A General, Then I’m A Ballerina,” He Said—Until The Doors Opened

junction—visible, but not obviously threatening. When the four figures rounded the corner, I was standing there, arms loose, posture relaxed.

They stopped.

The lead man, late thirties, expensive suit, assessed me in half a second. His hand moved toward his jacket.

“I wouldn’t,” I said calmly.

“Who are you?”

“Someone having a very bad night. Turn around.continue reading …