Knucklebones stepped one leathery bare foot into the plastic pool, bright and faded colors both rippling under the liquid. Filth bloomed in arcs from his foot, dirt and barren clouding the chemicals. He wrinkled an ancient looking triangle that sat center on his face, and enshrouded by the giant round disc his hat made, and Knucklebones inhaled deeply.
Podden och tillhörande omslagsbild på den här sidan tillhör
Matthew D. Jordan. Innehållet i podden är skapat av Matthew D. Jordan och inte av,
eller tillsammans med, Poddtoppen.
