The Distant Joke
The sleet had turned the cobblestones of Leeds into a slick, treacherous mirror, reflecting the grey, soot-stained facades of the warehouses that lined the river bank, and I walked with the heavy, deliberate gait of a man whose knees had begun to ache with the damp chill of the November air. I was forty years old, a debt collector for the firm of Halloway and Sons, a title that had once sounded...
0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 2 Views 0 Vista previa