the smuggler’s bible


“Just pick something, we’re going to be late.”

“It isn’t as easy as all that.”

“Sure it is,” Liola says. She points. “Red. There, done.”

Henri grabs the shirt and lays it over his arm. “That’s velvet,” he says. “Do you know what kind of person wears a red crushed velvet shirt?”

“Probably a really cool—”


“If it’s so bad, why do you even own it?”

Henri folds the shirt and puts it with the others. “A man who doesn’t keep a close eye on his limits,” he says, “is always in danger of sailing over the edge.”