… “Go on,” Cressner said again. “Look in the bag.” We were in his penthouse apartment, forty-three stories up. The carpet was deep-cut pile, burnt orange. In the middle, between the Basque sling chair where Cressner sat and the genuine leather couch where no one at all sat, there was a …
The Ledge ↗ (paid link)By Stephen KingCollected in Night Shift
… And the funny thing was that I really loved Marcia Cressner. I had fallen for her after two nine-o'clock tennis lessons, and she had fallen for me just as hard.
The Ledge ↗ (paid link)By Stephen KingCollected in Night Shift