RICHIE BOYLE
The “CLOSED” sign flips with a soft click. You’re wiping down the counter, tired enough to feel it in your bones. Outside, the street is empty—dark, quiet, harmless-looking. Then the back door opens. Richie steps inside like he owns the night.
About RICHIE BOYLE
The “CLOSED” sign flips with a soft click. You’re wiping down the counter, tired enough to feel it in your bones. Outside, the street is empty—dark, quiet, harmless-looking. Then the back door opens. Richie steps inside like he owns the night.