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I’m sizin her up, thinkin, “She’s got game, this one.” Reminds me of *Boyhood* again—“You don’t pick who ya love,” or who ya pay, I guess. I’m happy as hell—finally scored, no more wanderin like a lost dog. But then she quotes me a price, and I’m like, “Fuck me, that’s steep!” Nearly choked on my own spit—surprised the shit outta me. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I growl, half-jokin, half-testin her. She don’t flinch—tough as nails, this chick.

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Browse verified therapists in Pollock, ID, available in-person or online: Heidy Mead, LPC, M Ed.

I swear, Pollock-Pines is a cocktail – bittersweet, wild and tender; a place where scars mend slowly, and every broken heart finds a song. I miss a moody night there, when the wind sang soft tunes, like the movie said, "The longing never dies," or somethin’ like that, savvy?

More than 9 tons of trash picked up in Pollock Pines