Ep. 5 – Shadows on 42nd Street

A photo. A rooftop. His hand at my back, and a gun in his. The city won’t let me breathe, and the shadows are closing in. They say I was always the reason. But I don’t remember. Maybe that’s the point.
A photo. A rooftop. His hand at my back, and a gun in his. The city won’t let me breathe, and the shadows are closing in. They say I was always the reason. But I don’t remember. Maybe that’s the point.