el-Jimmeister

33% It was a dark and stormy night, and if it was any colder, it would be like being in a place that's a little colder than it is here. In the near-silence of the dreary, cobblestoned streets, only footsteps could be heard. Footsteps of a lonely man dressed in a tattered trench coat that seemed to have never been washed. He smelled of dumpsters in dangerous back alleys. His trousers were soaking wet, and the fabric weighed down on his spindly legs, as heavy as the burden he carried in his battered heart. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a