4
Lincoln and I rush down an empty street that’s lined with identical row houses. Mrs. Pomplemousse lives at number 13. In this area, all the façades are two stories high, made of brick, and fronted by tiny lawns with mostly green grass. For Purgatory, that’s fancy stuff. Tall windows look out from the second floor of each dwelling. As we walk by, I get the sneaking sensation that those windows are actually eyes, and they all watch us with evil intentions.
Great. I’m seeing nasty faces in buildings. Might be time for a nap.
In short order, we reach Mrs. Pomplemousse’s door. Lincoln knocks. While we wait for her to respond, I lean on my guy’s shoulder. Before coming here, Lincoln and I made a quick stop at the limo where we changed into our “average person” outfits. I’m now sporting skin
