Graveyard Girl by Bry Ann

I met the woman I love in a Graveyard at 10:30 at night…
She jammed a flaming cigar into my arm for littering her favorite place.
The Graveyard.
I wrapped my hands around her tiny throat, expecting a man.
An actual threat.
But no.
It was a woman. A tiny woman at that.
One who spoke English, but cursed, hissed and growled in Spanish.
Not a threat at all.
… or so I thought.
We’re not sociopaths.
But we desperately wish we were.