He turned the huge brass doorknob, barely able to grasp its circumference, and pushed, and pushed again. Solid. Running his trembling fingers through his greasy hair, smoothing back his head at sky angle, he noticed a small bell, an indent with a huge nipple of communication, he pressed it.
Last edited by camus
on Sun Apr 09, 2006 12:33 am, edited 3 times in total.