Dukkha Unloaded. Loren W. Christensen

except when he’d hit her in the stomach, sometimes really hard. He never hit her in the face because it was important she look good to bring in the money.

      She reached into her coat pocket and retrieved a fat, orange clutch purse. She pulled out a wad of tens and twenties, dropped them onto the pink sheet at the foot of the bed, and did a quick count.

      “Damn, two hundred twenty dollars,” she said aloud. “Must have done ten … no, eleven blow jobs tonight. Not the busiest night but above average.”

      She made two piles, 110 dollars in each. Sometimes Lee let her keep more than fifty percent, especially when she brought in a good haul. It would be nice to get a little extra to buy some dope, maybe get a couple nights off to rest and spend time with Chelsea.

      Chelsea! She raised her heavy eyes to the head of the bed and smiled drunkenly at her four-month-old sleeping peacefully between two oversized pillows.