The Golden Downtown
The champagne in my glass was flat, warm, and tasting faintly of the brass spittoon in the corner. I stood near the edge of the rotunda, watching the dust motes dance in the beams of light that cut through the high, arched windows. The Municipal Library was holding its breath, a collective inhalation of silk gowns and wool suits, all waiting for the toast that would seal my fate or break it. I...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima