The Faded Frontier
The coat is red. It is not a bright red, but the dull, oxidized red of dried blood. It hangs on your back. You do not remember putting it on. You only know it is there. The fabric is heavy. It pulls at your shoulders. You are walking through the pines. The air is cold. It smells of pine resin and wet earth. You are a detective. You have been a detective for thirty years. You have seen many...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen