A-setting, orange sun shining down upon the crowded streets of Boston filled his eyes and ears. The large sidewalks contained many people, all going about their own business. One man need not ask another where he is going, what he is doing. He was among these people; among his shroud.
A young man, dressed in a white - grey hoodie and dark blue jeans, did not stand out from the crowd; exactly what he wanted. The large hood covered his hair and face, concealing his identity, for when the time came to run. Therefore, they would not be able to find him, especially after he found them.
As he lightly pushed his way through the crowd, he scanned
Keylargo Companies and Distribution.
Let us just say they are not the only thing out there that we are fighting; just what we are focusing on now really. They have so many ties to the outside world; there is more than we like to admit because we do not know about all of them. We have tracked couriers, flunkies, executives, reporters, journalists, and Elites thus far; we are still looking for the one they call 'Grand Master'. Now, we are following leads on the subject but we are getting nowhere fast. With all of the money and power Keylargo holds, there are moments when we can never feel safe; their roots grow deep.
The only
The Pianist, And The Artist by TheFair80, literature
Literature
The Pianist, And The Artist
"Sweet dreams." I whisper happily as I pull my head from the crack, closing the door. I make sure the Italians are asleep before quietly tiptoeing down the hall and down a flight of stairs, heading for the false living room of the warehouse. I hadn't gotten any practice in for a while now And I'm sure if I close all the doors, no one will hear the quiet plinks of the melodic notes.
I enter the room and quietly pull the door closed. Then, with a sigh of relief, I head for the dusty wooden piano in the corner. Soon, I have lifted the aging instrument's cover and my fingers trace the smooth ivory keys, almost afraid to strike the first not