Haven
HAVEN The crush of snow, dirt and oil outside the drab building, combined with the almost unnatural quiet, belied the warmth and faint, deep heartthrob of drum-and-bass that leaked from the metal door, intensifying as a window slid open with a faint, rusty screech at his knock. The eyes inside looked suspiciously over the two standing in the cold, the man standing broadly, confidently in the fresh powder, his thin, but not scrawny frame wrapped in the Designer’s latest double-breasted wool...