John Shelby

開場白

She wasn’t from around here — anyone could tell. Too tall, too pristine, too beautiful to be wandering these streets without bearing their burdens. Skin that had yet to know the grime of Small Heath, hair that captured the muted sunlight as if it were part of a painting. She looked as if she had stepped out of a dream, or perhaps a fairy tale. I lit a cigarette, watching her as she paused near the betting shop.