Chapter 112 Vaguely Of Sympathy, Jaded Dreams And Romance

• A fleshy bud of dark, wilting petals peeked at Andrei amidst the jagged pieces of broken glass. He picked it up, twirling the thin, broken stem between his thumb and forefinger as he scanned the street for a nearby florist shop. When he found none, the coldness in his veins steadily turned to ice.
• Troubled, he carefully wrapped the withered bulb with his silk handkerchief and stuffed it in the inner breast pocket of his tailored cashmere coat before returning to the car, unable to shake off the unsettling feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.
• "Lev called," Ivan announced as he watched Andrei buckle up. "He wants us to meet him at the morgue."