In The Smoke-Filled Room
Finally, the sounds of an oncoming vehicle tore into the silence; he felt great relief the moment
he recognized the car of the man who normally drove him home.
The shiny black sedan fronted him, running slowly to a stop in his front, and a
middle-aged-looking driver with the look of no-nonsense but loyal was already stepping out from
it. "Sir, are you okay?
I'm good," Clyde muttered briefly, not allowing for any further inquiry as he slipped into the
backseat. "Drive. We don't have much time."
The driver nodded, got into the car, and pulled away from the wooded area. Clyde leaned back,
Bab Populer