https://theoviebooks.wordpress.com/ They say love's just a trick of the light, a reflection caught in the bottom of a whiskey glass, blurred by smoke, and gone before your fingers find the warmth. But the first time I saw her, love wasn't a trick. It was a bullet aimed right between the ribs. She walked into The Hollow Moon Lounge like she owned it, heels clicking, lips painted the color of sin, and a fur coat that could drown a poor man’s soul. The band stopped mid-riff. Cigarettes froze