Phoenix #3
I glance down at the recorder again, turning the scratched plastic over in my palm as though staring at the damn thing long enough might somehow give me a way out of this.
“It probably doesn’t even work,” I tell her.
I glance down at the recorder again, turning the scratched plastic over in my palm as though staring at the damn thing long enough might somehow give me a way out of this.
“It probably doesn’t even work,” I tell her.