To Eseme’s Request. After all of the Tattercoats stuff.
As the rain was coming down in torrents most often reserved for biblical events, Autumn had decided on staying in for a night, not in a motel — the town wasn’t big enough or on a major enough route for that — but in a bed-and-breakfast that didn’t seem too full of itself. She was sitting in its common room — which still looked much like a family living room of 100 years ago — drawing a fantasy scene of the same room when the door swung open.
He looked drenched, drowned-rat incarnate, his jeans holding out from his legs like they were their own creatures. He walked like his feet had moved past sore and on to misery a few hours ago.
And he looked familiar. “Edmonton!” She wrinkled her brow. “Wait, not just Edmonton, either.” Continue reading