There's a hazy sort of half-light that filters in through the palm trees lined against the road - twilight, or perhaps dawn. The sky overhead is darker, unobstructed, but not quite clear; the pervasive smog in this city makes it difficult to call any day (or night, for that matter) truly clearB walks for another few steps, then stops, looks up at ( Read more... )

[You ever get that nagging feeling that something is just ... off? B's feeling unsettled today, and it's not just the fact that he's been abnormally tired and drained for the past few days. There's something else ( Read more... )

[PRETEND I POSTED THIS DAYS AGO, OK B is shuffling around the kitchen of Golgotha House's Lower Cove, attempting to make coffee with mixed results. His hair is sticking up wildly - more so than usual, anyway - and he's squinting at the lights in a particularly annoyed fashion. He's quite obviously hung over, after drinking vodka with Ivan, and, ( Read more... )