Monday, May 21, 2018

First Paragraph

"You're sure that I won't be killed today?" The spy rubbed a hand against his smooth face and looked down at the wet Central Park grass beneath him. It was very early in the morning, and beyond the park the sounds of New York life were distant and mellow. He frowned and shook his head slightly. A fine, windless rain fell. "This whole thing seems odd."

- From Spycatcher by Matthew Dunn

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