“HushCabs. What’s your location?”
There’s a woman driving slowly down highway 27 in their direction, and every couple of miles, she opens her window and lets a handful of something human-tasting scatter in the wind.
The dragon dove out of the sky, claws extended, ready to strike.
He’s chosen one of the coffee places in the city that Candice talks about.
The match flared orange and momentarily suffused crisp December air with an oddly soothing aroma of sulfur and smoke.
Sveta twisted and turned in the mirror, lifting her shirt to inspect her stomach, flattering herself that it looked harder, firmer, than it had last week.