Wandering Raccoon Books 소설 & 이야기

Carolina had brought a jar of moonshine, and her thighs pressed up against his like she could wring the day out of him through osmosis. He let her. Let her pick the bugs from his hair, let her tap his shin with hers whenever she was about to confess or demand or lure him in with a gross science fact. “Did you know, post-catastrophe, raccoons have evolved eating plastic?” she asked, peeling the label off the glass with her thumb. “They get tumors, but then their litters get smarter anyway. It’s like nature wanted a little chaos-creature to outlive us all.”