Chicago’s morning fog was a gray smear of dankness and sticky soot. It didn’t roll in, like in Detroit. It just was. One minute you could count gaslights for blocks, the next you felt buried alive.
fv everleigh, “Gilded Cages”
Chicago’s morning fog was a gray smear of dankness and sticky soot. It didn’t roll in, like in Detroit. It just was. One minute you could count gaslights for blocks, the next you felt buried alive.
fv everleigh, “Gilded Cages”