It was little old Ashmond, but the vacant streets and the empty
store lots and the presence of the shadow drenched refuse pinged him funny,
made him certain a roving gang of thugs were due to materialize, ready to rough
up a couple of teens, especially ones snooked far over on the decent side of
the scale, annoying teens armed with nothing but good-intentioned questions
towards reverse engineering hypnosis a half-decade old. Leonard could almost see his father breaking
into tears, bedside at the hospital or memorializing at graveside. His dumb dead son, primed and ready to follow
Tasha, even to certain untimely erasure.
No comments:
Post a Comment