The Snake in the Warehouse
It was raining in Los Angeles that night, the kind of rain that makes the neon signs bleed colour onto the pavement and turns the streets into rivers of reflected light. I was chasing a jumper through an abandoned warehouse on the edge of Boyle Heights when I saw it. A snake. A big one. Burmese python, maybe twelve feet long, coiled in the corner like a length of black rope. It was the sort of...
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