The Wistful Skyline
The concrete dust in the lobby of St. Jude’s Hospital tasted of chalk and decay, a dry grit that coated Elias’s tongue as he stared at the demolition foreman. The air was thin, recycled through ducts that hadn’t been cleaned in decades, carrying the faint, metallic scent of old blood and wet plaster. Kovic, a man whose face was a map of tight, utilitarian lines, adjusted his hard hat and looked...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews