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“Come on, Cliff Graham. Get a god-damned grip. Slipping out from behind his hiding place, he thinks, these freaking crows are going to be the death of me yet. He’s been dealing with unusual crow behaviour around this town from as far back as he can remember, and he can’t shake the feeling that something major is brewing with those black birds.” — Vernon Oickle
Come on, Cliff Graham. Get a god-damned grip. Slipping out from behind his hiding place, he thinks, these freaking crows are going to be the death of me yet.
He’s been dealing with unusual crow behaviour around this town from as far back as he can remember, and he can’t shake the feeling that something major is brewing with those black birds.