A Familiar Shadow

THE WATCHERS

~RAFAEL ~

The terrace of the penthouse I had rented was high enough that the people below looked like ants, but I wasn't looking at them with my bare eyes.

I had a pair of high-end military binoculars gripped in my hands, the chilly metal biting into my palms.

Alfama was a nightmare of orange-tiled roofs and laundry lines. It was beautiful, I guess, if you liked that kind of thing.

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