Tag: The Pale Criminal

I While Dennis Flamingo was working, something had been growing inside him — not tumor, not fever, not any of the flamboyant afflictions that require priests, signatures, discreetly folded pamphlets, follow-up consultations, and the soft percussion of sympathy — but structure. It did not swell toward crisis. It did not inflame. It did not redden,… Continue reading The Pale Criminal →