lit windows

Ian relaxed slightly as he reached the end of the street, looking up instinctively to check the road before he left the sidewalk for frozen asphalt. The initial shock of cold faded into a dull ache as he dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his long wool coat. “Oh, well,” Ian said aloud, “what did I expect, anyway?” Ian tripped slightly as he stepped into the sharp incline of street’s gutter. Regaining his balance, Ian stopped and turned back to look at the highrise he had just left. Counting up and then over, he located the lit windows of Angie’s apartment.

Lord Malinov, Journals of Lord Malinov

About Lord Malinov

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