Harbinger
I lay on the cot staring up at the sickly pallor of the light-pollution hanging over Palo Alto. Off to my right, movement catches my eye. A rat is running along the telephone wire. That’s all that’s up at this hour: the rats and me. One the harbinger of disease, the other the diseased.
February 10th, 2014 at 04:02:00 pm
You’re neither of these things, Mr. Arcanius.