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Chapter 82: Holding On
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Chapter 84: His Name Was Rain
PREVIEW
... new morning was arriving. But the room was heavy with silence, sharp and suffocating.
Papa was sitting there, holding his old revolver. Slowly, carefully cleaning it. There was that soldier's sternness in his movements, like he had learned something about life that we couldn't understand.
I came in, one shoe half on, hair all tangled, bag hanging loosely. "Papa, I'm taking the scooter today."
He didn't even look up.
"No."
Just one word, cold like a chunk o ...
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