"And then what happened?"

Jeb Blake leaned over his cup of coffee, speaking in a raspy voice. Nearly seventy, he was lean and tall-almost too thin-and his face was deeply wrinkled. The thinning hair on his head was almost white, and his Adam's apple protruded from his neck like a small prune. His arms were tattooed and scarred, covered with sun spots, and the knuckles on his hands were permanently swollen from years of wear and tear as a shrimper. If not for his eyes, a person would think he was frail and sick when looking at him, but in truth he was far from it. He still worked almost every day, though only part-time now, always leaving the house before daybreak and returning around noon.

…

…

…

 

>> 网页版功能未完善，完整内容，请使用微信小程序。