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Guthrie was a good place to be from, but it wasn’t a great place to live, not when you were like Adam, in all the ways Adam was like Adam.
Adam’s sensitivity, his particular type of magic, left him like an open door. Strong emotions from another person could walk in and set up house.
The bloody tendril shifted in the wind, a gory rope mooring a tumorous blimp.
To petition, he had to come as himself, to invoke the card that best represented him, and Sue hadn’t been wrong. It was always swords with Adam.
