To Love A Monster
Worst of all, though, I have his eyes, and every time I look in a mirror, I see what that bastard did to my mother.
It's a Sunday evening in early December, and I'm outside hanging Mira Ricci's Christmas lights while she directs from inside the warm house, cocktail in hand. Fucking cunt. Did I mention it's snowing? Because once snow comes to Sinistral, it stays a good four months, if we're lucky. Five if we're not. I fucking hate snow.
Horatio Russo pulls up on the drive, and he and Valentina climb out.
"Nicholas, this is no night to be hanging Christmas lights, son. It's eighteen degrees."
Bab Populer