The beloved sleuth as awkward womanizer

The beloved sleuth as awkward womanizer
A portly, balding, middle-aged man sat hunched over on a stool at the Casino Royale Tavern and Bar in downtown London. He stared intently, as only a drunk can do, at a bullet, which he was lifting and dropping.
Day 1 “Why am I here?” I ask the universe, but the universe is silent. I hunger for life, though I am surrounded by death. I steep in its miasma; it warms me, nurtures me, nourishes the frail tendrils by which I cling to this precarious precipice of existence. In death I find life. The […]