overhanging elms

“Chambers Road didn’t used to have nearly this much traffic,” he said. Evan checked his watch. The meetings at the factory had lasted too long for his taste. He felt bad, leaving Ray and Greg on their own. Evan looked up the Pike, as the road faded beneath the dark shadows of overhanging elms. He’d pointed the guys toward the hot spots, and that would have to do. The light turned green. Evan pushed the accelerator and the car leapt forward.

Lord Malinov, Journals of Lord Malinov

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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