A time of stranger
Where I come from, no one locks their doors. We don’t even have locks. It isn’t that they feel particularly safe, or kind to strangers. We don’t have those either. Strangers, that is. You see, I come from Harmony. Yes, that Harmony. Before you ask, no, I don’t have a third arm growing out of my shoulder, scales on my skin, barbs out of my spine. I mean, my skin gets dried out if I spend too much time in t...
