The sunset over Riverport was a bruised purple and orange, the light catching the glass of the Celestial Spire in the distance. Below, in the shadowed canyons of The Old Quarter, the heat of the day lingered like a heavy blanket. Ethan Gray sat in his study, the glow of his computer monitor illuminating the Manuscript paper scattered across his desk. He was deep into a script revision, his mind occupied by character arcs and dialogue beats, when a familiar, off-key melody drifted through the open window.
“The Monk rides a horse, cloppity-clop… behind him follows the Monkey King, hip-hop-hop…”
Ethan leaned back, a faint smile touching his lips. Speak of the devil, and she shall appear—singing her trademark anthem. There was only one person in the entire city who sang that particular nurse
