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Chapter 43: Climax
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... lence, the sun peeking through high windows, motes of dust drifting like lethargant depressives.
Gezza entered, sneaker scuffing clean floors, the Playbook banging with no noise in his bag—the old sweat and groans still stinging his skin.
Marie was seated at the circulation desk, her head stooped over a bulky book, glasses on her nose, others on her fingers, Two glasses, he said to himself?
He swaggered by, resting against the desk, wood chilly in his palms. "Hey, wassup. ...
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