Arthur sighed, recording the four thousandth street name in his frayed and faded journal.
-‘Lainerie’
_-Cobbled, narrow streets _
-Overgrown vegetation
-Weathered stone angels
-What are angels?
Arthur stopped writing, his pens ink flowing like a dark, meandering river across the page.
Angels. He stared at the scribbled phrase, wondering why he had written it. But the answer, like so m...