Welcome back for another Six Sentence Sunday installment from Flight. Thank you to everyone who visited and/or commented on last week's six. I value your feedback. Last week, we saw Bartholomew start a fight. Shall we see how he finishes it?
“Bonjour, Monsieur Barnes,” he said as he yanked the biter back, opened the door, and shoved him into the daylight. He slammed the door and smiled at the agonized roar and the snap of branches as the American dodged the blinding and blistering sun by diving beneath the flowering viburnums that edged the mansion.
He turned to Claire.
“Go bathe. You reek of poverty and whores.”
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