It’s one scene. It’s not much. But it’s a start. So, yay.
It’s also got a first line which I kinda like: “The next morning, Chad stood in the kitchen, Cliff’s bricklike antique cellphone in his hand, dialing a number on a slip of paper he’d found in one of his mutilated Thursday-night pockets as outside the wail of electric guitars rose on the breeze.”
So there you are. Progress is being made. Fleets of assassin messenger pigeons be damned. Hee.


