The woman entered the shop as though she had been inside it many times. Her eye lashes were laced with ice crystals, and her red hat and scarf were covered in snow. She stomped her boots at the door and as she turned toward me, I looked away.

Fear quickened through me.

She walked toward me with assurance and dropped a heavy book on my desk. I felt as though time was a viscous liquid as I raised my gaze up from the thick tome. The buttons on her black coat glinted, though the room was dimly lit. I couldn’t bear to look her in the eye; instead, I looked at her shapely mouth.

“You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to get my hands on this.â€? She said, “But it’s spells it out man, it’s the truth. Finally the truth. I’d do it all again, hell, we might have to.â€?