The Donovan Fall
The first time I killed a man, I was twenty-two and the winter in Chicago was the kind of winter that got inside your bones and stayed there until spring forgot your name.His name was Tommy O'Neil, and he didn't deserve to die. That's the thing about killing people—you think they'll put up more of a fight, or at least have the decency to earn it. But Tommy was sitting in his apartment on South...
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