I love fashion but I hate you.


…The door popped open and the street scene jumped up at Arlie. He swallowed hard, startled slightly by the sudden eruption of noise and blaring, clashing light, and stepped out to the street. Within a few steps, he left behind that which was in the restaurant, — the immaculate kitchen; the wood-paneled, elegant dining area; the solemn, period bar; and the cramped, bloody upstairs office. It was cold. It was November, after all.

image via Street FSN

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