[ With Nelson to distract his focus, it was easy enough for Bradbury's gaze to fall on Maskin. It was a distraction from the throb in his shoulder, the weird, depressing mood that seemed to linger in the air. This wasn't a house where friends visited -- Nelson looked like he possibly hadn't had anyone he could call his friend in a long time, if Bradbury was any judge. It wasn't just the house, though. The City itself felt different, swollen like an overripe fruit, sickly-sweet but rotten at the core.
He shook the mental image off. ]
What makes you think there are people who want to listen?
no subject
He shook the mental image off. ]
What makes you think there are people who want to listen?