By Frank Miller. It’s one of those hot nights, dry and windless. The kind that makes people do sweaty, secret things. Dwight’s thinking of all the ways he’s screwed up and what he’d give for one clear chance to wipe the slate clean, to dig his way out of the numb gray hell that is his life. And he’d give anything. Just to cut loose. Just to feel the fire. One more time. And then Ava calls. MATURE READERS. SC BW 208pg |
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