The Golden Crossing
The alarm cuts the air like a wire. It is not a siren. It is a frequency. You feel it in your molars before you hear it with your ears. You are in the precinct. The floor is cold tile. Your boots are laced tight. The leather creaks as you stand. You see him. David is across the room. He is not wearing a uniform. He is wearing a grey suit. The fabric is thin. It ripples like water under the...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen