The rain hadn't stopped for three days. It drummed on the roof of Jack's restaurant like it was trying to get in, like it knew something was inside that it wanted very badly.
Jack Morano sat at the counter in the back, drinking black coffee from a chipped mug and watching the rain hit the window. The restaurant was closed. It was always closed on Tuesdays. Tuesdays were when Scarlett came. She'd been coming for six weeks. Every Tuesday, like clockwork, at seven o'clock. She'd walk in wearing a red dress that was too bright for a Tuesday in November, sit at the same...
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