The receptionist looked right through me as i crossed the carpeted lobby between glass-cased tanker models and clipper ship prints. I winked at her, and she spun away on her swivel chair. The frosted doors to the inner sanctum had bronze fouled anchors mounted in place of handles, and i pushed through humming a sea shanty under my breath.....
Falling Angel (Angel Heart)
Willian Hjortsberg
1978
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