The Drizzle That Rained Like Partying Foxes

The Drizzle that Rained like Partying Foxes A Short Story by Jane Doe Barry Clifford was thinking about Zach Jones again. Zach was a patient god with wobbly hands and tall warts. Barry walked over to the window and reflected on his creepy surroundings. He had always loved industrial New York with its dry, damaged ditches. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel active.