https://t.co/OdcaQp6wgP every time i dedicate a good chunk of my replies to my characters interacting amongst themselves for the sake of fleshing them out i feel like this
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ᅠᅠrain streaming across the windshield in the glow of its own beams. the machine has stopped listening, as the driver would soon figure out.
𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗻 steps out of the shadow and into the light.
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ᅠᅠthe rain settles in a greasy film across night city, beading on the concrete and smearing every neon sign into a blur of colours.
beneath the overpass, on a stretch of arroyo road that the city has long forgotten, three men wait in a fragmented silence.
( + )
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ᅠᅠrolling into the narrow throat of the road at exactly the speed 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮 said it would; right on time too.
<< handshake, in three. . . two. . . >>
the car’s engine note stutters, falls, and the headlights coast to a long, silent halt,
( + )
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ᅠᅠhm. perhaps that is the root of the problem. you don't hate each other enough; always looking for enemies abroad when the real menace hollows out your country, your institutions, and eventually your very homes.
then again. . . it isn't a uniquely american trait.
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