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Chapter Eighty-Five - M.E.O.W, That’s Right!
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... re rows upon rows of flowers. Small, red things with black centres. Her hand trailed down to her side and she gently pinched one of them. She imagined that it was soft, but her gloved hands hid any such thing from her.
Behind was a clearing. A wide space hidden by a raised hillside where cars and transports were parked. The media was here, because of course they were, but they were being polite. Professional. Somber.
It was raining.
That was almost always the case, but it ...
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