Daniel loved these damned hurricanes. He folded back the shutters, then opened the window. Rain hit him good. It tasted of salt and smelled of dead fish and weeds. The cat-five wind clawed through New Orleans at better than a hundred miles an hour, but back here in the alley-in a cheap one-room apartment over a po'boy shop-the wind was no stronger than an arrogant breeze. The
( Robert Crais )
[ The Sentry ]
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