Invader By Trace

The light.¬† Just easing over the edge of the window sill and pouring down, into the room, like a waterfall, moments before the flash flood engulfs the entire river bed. The photon missile sent from the exploding orb, 93 million — and some-odd-change-miles — out in space, slammed into my over-used, alcohol abused, ocular orb, … More Invader By Trace