Connie Weeks
Joined June 2021
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The Path
Two men fell out of the swirling green mist, hitting the coffee table, and knocking a vase of flowers from the fireplace. A revolver skittered across the carpet, and one of them scrambled to retrieve it. The man propped his shoulder against the closest wall, grimacing at the painting of an angel protecting a flock of sheep above his head.
By Connie Weeks3 years ago in Futurism