Stop Male Abuse When It’s Happening…Maybe?
How feminist was I, really, when the shit hit the fan outside?
“Get out! GET OUT! You’re going to get arrested!”
There was a kerfuffle of some sort. I don’t know what else to call it. I was poised at my apartment door, peering through the peephole. I couldn’t see anything. The couple in the hall weren’t in my line of sight.