by Anton Julliard
Published: August 19, 2014
Imar Rahmat hunched over his drink. Through his mind’s eye, he replayed his recent life, which unfolded like a badly choreographed script.But he was beyond caring. Nothing could change that, no matter what he had been told. Looking through the pool of amber liquid in the depths of the glass, he caught a glimpse of a flame-filled room. Wait! Was it possible that he was wrong, after all?