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House of Corruption - Erik Tavares

Colorful types still haunted the midnight streets of Chalmette: well-dressed patrons returning from ‘Orleans and its more dignified delights; clusters of sailors looking for another groggery or a woman to rent; street musicians of various skill and diverse color; fading conversations in Creole and English and Spanish. Gaslights burned in globes of moist, foggy air and pedestrians wiped at their slippery faces. Rain was coming.


*happy sigh*