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“There was a pop of backfire, and Iris jumped. It sounded so much like a gun firing, and her pulse spiked. She winced, fighting the urge to cower; choosing instead to open her eyes. Roman was sitting on the milk crate just as she left him, with a scowl on his face. And a cat curled up in his lap.” — Rebecca Ross
There was a pop of backfire, and Iris jumped. It sounded so much like a gun firing, and her pulse spiked. She winced, fighting the urge to cower; choosing instead to open her eyes.
Roman was sitting on the milk crate just as she left him, with a scowl on his face. And a cat curled up in his lap.