This is the product description text that will appear here.
Quantity
1
The newsagent on Feversham Avenue is small, dark and cramped, a situation that seems to physically constrict the bearing of its proprietor, Mr Johnson - a sallow, sagging man with blunt, endlessly grinding teeth.
“Morning,” I say, still rubbing night-sand from my eyes.
“Morning,” Mr Johnson replies through his vice-like grin. He hands me
