Thursday, June 26, 2008


by Sonja Nitschke

His lips are carved in an overconfident smirk that goes nicely with his felt hat. If he could open his mouth, he'd say words like "dames" and smoke a cigarette in the dark.

He's on a case, but can't follow the trail.

It'd be a cinch if he could extricate himself from his own strings.

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