Explore "Tropic Death" by Eric Walrond on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"_Mama, a las siete! _"
It was seven o'clock. Anger, noise, confusion -- a cock's lofty crowing. Opening his eyes, he stood quietly, deciding. In a tall bare room, he had been warmed in the night first by one adult body, then, an eternity later, by another. Now he was free of the sense of both.