Book 3 – Chapter Seven
Luna’s POV I take the steps two at a time, rushing down the three flights of stairs until I reach the tiny foyer at the bottom. I race across the chipped tiled floor and burst out of the heavy glass door into the evening Boston air. Tossing the trash bag into the dumpster that sits at the edge of the sidewalk, ready for collection, I hurry my way toward my car a few spaces down from the door. At thirty years old, she’s certainly no beauty, but she’s reliable, a bit like me, you could say. In the two years that I’ve owned her, ever since Mr Farris gave up driving and sold her to me for fifty bucks and a ride any time he needs them, she’s never broken down on me. I unlock the door and slide into the driver’s seat, the familiar scent of old upholstery and a faint scent of peppermint that I
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