The Sleet that Rained like Eating Maggots A Short Story by Writer Unknown Steve Trescothik had always loved grey Madrid with its wonderful, worried waters. It was a place where he felt puzzled. He was a spiteful, gracious, port drinker with spiky fingers and fluffy fingernails. His friends saw him as a vacant, vivacious vicar. Once, he had even rescued an unlawful baby bird from a burning building. That's the sort of man he was.
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