Terminal Sunset WIP
Alex Beyman



“I miss when ‘night people’ meant insomniacs” Mom called out from the kitchen, elbow deep in dirty dishes. I smirked, but Dad either didn’t hear it or wasn’t in the mood, peering tensely through the blinds. When I knelt beside him, I discovered the object of his interest was a silhouetted figure standing across the street in the alley, just beyond the reach of the street lights.

“Do you think tha...

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