That’s something I’d change if I had it to do over. But I don’t, obviously.
Shelly stared through the mist at the red neon in front of her, not quite ready to concede that this was it. She’d got used to things not making sense down here but this was getting way beyond weird.
He answered without hesitating, watching as Amelión continued to trace a finger along the horizon where rock met sand.
“Not like that. Look at me, please before you answer, so that I know you are truthful in-the-now. It’s important to me.”
The third world tarmac rolled out ahead of him, a curved drop-off to the port side plunging rapidly into the amber desert bowl. It was far from straight and its uniformity in colour almost-completely camouflaged its non-uniform level. He sighed and focused, pushing smoothly against
Scarlet paint over her goose-bumped skin…
I know it was almost certainly overkill and unquestionably extravagant, but…