The Spark
As he waited for an answer, Jack paced about. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before putting his spare hand in his pocket to conserve warmth. The sweater and jacket he was wearing had served him well so far, but he would need to put on a heavier coat before continuing. It would only grow colder as the roads elevated. His short, dark blonde hair waved in the breeze as his deep blue eyes peered into the distance. The accomplished writer was in his late thirties, yet he didn't...