
Do u want a second part of this story....?
The neon sign of The Rusty Nail flickered, casting a rhythmic, sickly violet glow over the damp pavement. Lewis leaned against his sedan, the scent of rain and exhaust clinging to his wool coat. He checked his watch. Midnight. Eva had texted him three hours ago, her messages devolving from coherent complaints about her boyfriend into a series of garbled emojis and pleas for a ride.






Write a comment ...