The Golden Maze
The causeway groaned under the weight of the ferry, a low, settling gasp that echoed from the model tenments of the back-of-town. It was the sound of a house dying, or perhaps just settling into its new, occupied bones. Celeste Vidrine stood at the edge of the salt flat, the drizzle soaking through his coat until the fabric hung heavy and useless, a second skin of wet wool. He was thirty-two, a...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare