Pudding Stories

Mia buffed the huge wooden cross in the white basement, deltoids aching as she remembered last night’s muffled cries.  The debased satisfaction she knew the clients always felt with Baun.  She’d hated every moment of listening to it, though a part of her always wished the mess she cleaned was messier.   Sighing, she wiped her brow with her forearm.  Took a few steps back, looking at the cross from every angle to make sure...