In The Arms of Morpheus
I nodded, taking in his rather disturbing madman outfit, the buckles on the blood-stained sleeves of his straight jacket clinking together every time he moved.
“Where are the rest of the crew?” he continued, looking around.
I caught sight of Kay’s bun through the crowd and showed him, pushing my way through the crowd once again. He followed close behind, stopping to greet people as we passed them and commenting on their outfits.
“Hello hamburger.” he greeted Kay, eyebrow raised in confusion.
“Actually, I’m the fall of American health.” she retorted, her fist resting on a pickle which protruded on the side of her costume.
الفصول الرائجة