We use cookies
When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Your cookies settings
Strictly cookie settingsAlways Active
Chapter 62
A quiet street, in the sun-blistered heat of the afternoon. Between commuting hours. Before children come home from school. And the sky, a molten blast of blue. Even the birdsong has stilled. Nothing moves. Except me… And my quarry… The thrill of the chase. It"s a cliché. But clichés become clichés because they have something to tell us. becomeThere is something pure about the chase. Something unsullied and perfect. No clever out-thinking and manoeuvring. Just the simple pursuit of the quarry. And as I pursue my fleeing target, the silence howls around me. The air is suffocating. The sun roars down on the streets, and the streets throw it back, stripping the moisture from my throat yet, perversely, setting perspiration streaking down my forehead and cheeks. But ahead of me, Hoodie’s
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD
