I put the duster away folded with the dust in it, leaned back and just sat, not smoking, not even thinking. I was a blank man. I had no face, no meaning, no personality, hardly a name. I didn't want to eat. I didn't even want a drink. I was the page from yesterday's calendar crumpled at the bottom of the wastebasket.
Raymond Chandler
The Little Sister
1949
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Hotel Hideout
by Dan Zollinger
via pmckh.tumblr.com
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