About
I write stuff.
The bungalow was tucked into the green obscurity along the mountain road a few miles east of Larsen’s Peak. The place was well kept if not exactly tidy. Townes had moved in a year before, and spent the first few months repairing cracked walls and broken t...
I’m here, it said. Layne let out a slow breath and hit the send button on his phone, then waited while the car idled at the curb. It was a torpid night - muggy - and the city reeked of human confinement. It was the eve of some transplanted third world hol...