Midnight Sun
/One Sip Is More Than Enough.
“It’s what?” Andrew asked.
“A drink,” I said. “Called the Midnight Sun. They serve it one day a year. Today.” We stood at the bar, backpacks lying at our feet.
Read More“It’s what?” Andrew asked.
“A drink,” I said. “Called the Midnight Sun. They serve it one day a year. Today.” We stood at the bar, backpacks lying at our feet.
Read MoreTheresa Sitterhorn sat at a small table on the patio overlooking the market district, smoking one Virginia Slim after another, scanning the Chinese urbanites hurrying along the sidewalks. It was lunchtime.
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