I Am Syd Stone -

Syd Stone always looks. That’s why I’m the only one left who knows where the bodies are buried—and why I’m the only one who can’t sleep at night. I can keep going with this, but I'd love to know:

The neon sign above the diner flickered, casting a rhythmic violet bruise across my knuckles. I stared at the coffee—black, lukewarm, and bitter enough to peel paint. I am Syd Stone

Miller pushed a grainy photograph across the Formica tabletop. It showed a silver briefcase chained to a wrist that didn't have a body attached to it anymore. Syd Stone always looks

"I’m not late, Miller," I said, my voice sounding like gravel under a boot. "I’m exactly where I planned to be. You’re just early because you’re nervous." I stared at the coffee—black, lukewarm, and bitter

I stepped out into the rain. The water hit the pavement with a hiss, cleaning the streets but leaving the city just as dirty as before. I didn't tell Miller that I never look. I didn't tell him because it would be a lie.