Serial Storytelling, in Paragraph Proportions - Fragment 8
Eyes, wide and glistering like pools of cracked glass in the tepid light of a single sorry lamp. Taunting with a tin-hollow laughter as it spun away into the deepness. Leaving him struggling between arousal and abject terror.
His name is Umin and he is simply a thief. A simple thief.
A bleeder of purses and accounts.
His fortunes a little less than likeable of late.
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