If he didn't show a strong attitude, he might become one of the silenced.
The warehouse's rolling shutter slowly closed.
The sound of a speedboat starting could be heard through the walls.
John lingered for a moment, returned to his car, and finally realized Angelica had left the city.
Click.
He lit a traditional cigarette, leaned against the hood of the Silver Rider 577, and admired the slightly fishy sunset by the dock.
Nicotine left no spicy taste on his lips; the familiar stimulation when it used to pass through the lungs was now quite bland, as if the body had already died.
This colorful Dream Chasing City was dim before dusk.
Skyscrapers and public facilities were all gray and white, with hard edges defining each building and staircase.
The sea was thick like mercury.
The sunset had an unreal haze.
This feeling was like watching the drink ad inside a vending machine through glass. The diluted orange-yellow, pressed by incandescent lights, didn't seem bright enough.
