Midnight. Broken street lights and bottles. Red road signs and bruises.
"Hey. You good?" She turned her head to look up to the wielder of the deep, mysterious voice a few meters away from her.
She smirked and moved closer to the tall guy leaning back against the cold wall of an abandoned market holding a half burnt cigarette between his thumb and index finger.
"Can I borrow one?" She stared at his poorly dimmed face, trying to catch his gaze. He pulled out a cigarette pack out of his pocket indifferently and opened it, just so she could take out the first one from his new pack.
YOU ARE READING
/ Kill What's Left Of Me /
Mystery / ThrillerWe are problems that want to be solved. We are mysteries that want to be discovered.
