Green Tweed Her hair was perfect. It was formed into waves, stiff and unmoving, evenly spaced along her temples and pinned back over her ears like muffs. It was cut short along her neck so it held her head like a bronze helmet, glinting in the light of the vintage lamps that surrounded her. Beneath her hair she was pale and soft, with soft shoulders and soft eyes that hung heavy from her brow. Her lips were flat and colorless, blending into her cheeks and chin, and her short, narrow neck melted into her chest like wax. She wore a light silk dress, which clungGreen Tweed
StenchThings always smelled different on shift. It was like all the odors of the city were suddenly having a cocktail party in your sinuses and deodorant wasn’t invited. Officer Lark waited patiently sniffing the air while Stevens added to the pungent stank of a dumpster.Stench
“Nothin’ like markin territory, eh? Eh?”
Shit. He was in one of his Canadian moods.
“Stop playin’ with yourself and zip, will ya? You know we’re supposed to be chasing that guy.” Stevens looked cynically over at the man who was at the moment trying to run up a wall farther down the alley.
The one thing yo
Devious Journal Entry
--
"Food spelled backwards is Doof."
thank you for the
thank you for the
Stupid people who judge wrong.
God, I love Santa Cruz.
and bring me that ale!
--
You have a lot yet to discover.
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