Tag Archives: Gail Wallace Bozzano


by Gail Wallace Bozzano

When the woman opened the door and slid into Kaito’s back seat, a smell crept into his cab: the smell of brine mixed with silt mixed with decay. A smell that has stayed in the back of his nostrils, in the back of his mind, since the day the wave hit Ishinomaki six months before. Continue reading

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Filed under Fiction