Michael Riverwoods
Even with my leather jacket on, it was cold. The night air was brisk, but it sent a small shiver crawling on my skin. It's just a dream, Michael. It was not real.
With a sigh, I shut the main door of my apartment behind me and walked down the sidewalk. It was like any other night in Gramercy Park. Lively chatter and car noises filled the air. I didn't bother filtering the sounds out as they drowned out the thoughts intruding my head. The regulars were going by their evenings, heading to and fro like the usual. They were oblivious to the shadows lurking under the cover of dark. They didn't know the real dangers of the world.
But they were happy.
Or that was how it seemed to me. They were happy. There were lights in their eyes, brighter even than ours. Pure innocenc
