It is not meat I hunt, but the much sweeter taste of hopelessness and despair. There is so much, each person wrapped in their own little aura of gloom. Sometimes it is hard to know where to start, but tonight my trail is clear. The sickly smell of a soul in turmoil guides me to my prey.On the out...
McLean rolled over, reaching for the bedside lamp, and only then realised that it was light outside. The clock said eight. Not like him to sleep through the alarm. Then he saw that it was switched off. He'd done that the morning before, after it had interrupted him and Emma. The bed was much less...
