The Wistful Dinner
The fog rolled in from the harbor, thick and grey as wet wool, swallowing the gaslights of the industrial district one by one until the world was reduced to a circle of damp cobblestones and the immediate, crushing reality of the man trying to break Sergeant Elias Thorne’s jaw. Elias held his ground, his boots digging into the slick mud of the alleyway, his body a vessel of trained, mechanical...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews