At 3 p.m. Jerrod and Mark made an executive decision to start the weekend early. Since it was Wednesday, they weren’t sure if the day could technically be attached to a weekend, but it was an excuse to break out the expensive Pappy Van Winkle Mark had received as a Christmas gift.
They were on a pilgrimage, all of them – the Knight, the Miller, the Wife of Bath, the beggar… well, not the beggar.
I am sleeping with the Japanese Emperor tonight. It is the way I say goodbye.
Belltown Burrito Kitchen had two official entrances, one for the restaurant proper, and one for the espresso line. Its third entrance, the unofficial one, lay around the corner, in perpetual shadow of the Space Needle. Rick approached that entrance now.
Beverly decided to walk down to the beach. She knew she wasn’t supposed to. She had been given strict orders by her daughter never to attempt the outside stairs without help, let alone to cross the lawn, cross the street, or go onto the beach. But.
J.M.S. Madeline’s self-published debut Food in an Age of Despair (written as J. Madeline) was distributed sporadically by the author herself throughout the summer of 2008
Matthew looked at the number hanging loosely from the gate post.
“Six hundred and sixty-six,” he said quietly.
“It’s really just a number,” I said.
