( you're the one who walks me i'm your one way street )

The steel in his hands feels like a void - a sort of cold that runs deeper than temperature, something offensive and unclean. But he loads the pistol, the magazine sliding easily into the frame and locking there with a whisper of a touch. It's a high-powered 9mm semi-automatic, and he doesn't touch the rounds with his bare hands; he intends to dig ( Read more... )