Things happen when you’re not looking. Things that you’re not expecting . . .
Tag: Mondays Are Murder
These punks sure picked an appropriate place to play at the apocalypse . . .
It was at the town library that I heard about Officer Harrington’s quick thinking on the front steps of the MacCann house . . .
There was a young couple eating on the floor of a dead shipmaster. . .
I braced myself on the backseat as my red taxi careened around the corner. . .
It was a typical August night in Tokyo when each breath felt like you were sucking cotton into your lungs. . .
At eleven o’clock on a Wednesday night, a man and a woman checked into cabin number 17 at Venice Marina under the false names of David and Connie Monroe. . .
Old Mr. Willman’s head twitched, and with some difficulty he pointed an arthritic finger at the gigantic oak tree with the peeling bark. . .
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