I don’t believe in protective angels, but one sits on the passenger seat of my ’97 Mercury anyway. It doesn’t have wings or much of a holy glow — it’s a drab sage green and the size of a big sandwich. A plastic, skeletal index finger bends on the top of an outline of a […]
Sign up for our newsletter
Processing…
Success! You're on the list.
Whoops! There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again.
