The Shadow at Rose Street
The rain in Los Angeles did not fall; it hovered, a fine grey mist that made the streetlights bleed into halos and the sidewalks shine like wet glass. Vera Collins walked through it with her collar turned up and a cigarette burning between her fingers, the smoke mixing with the rain and disappearing before it reached her face. She had been a journalist once. Four years ago, she had written an...
0 Commentaires 0 Parts 19 Vue 0 Aperçu