The Wistful Mirror
The rain in Chicago did not wash things clean; it just made the grime slicker, turning the streets into a mirror that reflected the neon bleed of the liquor stores and the hollow, wet eyes of the men who walked them. Elias Thorne stood under the awning of a shuttered pawn shop on the South Side, his hand buried in the pocket of his raincoat, fingers tracing the jagged crack in the face of the...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare