Augustine reached over to the passenger seat, picked up his sketchpad, got out of the car and immediately put his right foot into a mud puddle, sinking to his ankle. It felt like fate. Shaking his leg as he walked to the front door, the cool verge of a squall bit into his face and a dog howled somewhere in the dark.
The moment he opened the door, a blast of stale beer and cigarettes, mingling with a hint of cleaning fluid, hit him. Hitching...
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