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Weekly Contest #70
Brislington 1957, The blood warmed his numb fingers. It was clear now. He had ended a life. A life that is now gone. James made his way through the thick snow shoving his crimson claws into the protection of his jacket. The idea came to James that he should go to a place where he can think. His favorite place, The Coffee Shop. He padded across the busy street in the dead place of the small town James lived in. It was quiet and lifeless. Things like murder were easy to come by. Except for the lady at the counter, Rosy. Rosy bore...
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