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Show 188 BLOOD MONEY With her arm on his, they might have been lovers out window-shopping. "Let's go in," he said. The woman did not move. On the outside of the window, in large faded red lettering which formed an arc, they could read "Pacific Biologies," and below that, "Plasma Donation Center." "Tell me again it won't hurt," she said. "You'll hardly feel it," he said. Across the street, winos with bottles in paper bags lounged around the subway entrance. The street was wet and slick. It had rained an hour ago and now it looked like it might rain again. A dozen blocks ahead, the tall pointed buildings of the financial district rose up through the mist and haze to loom above the rest of the city. |
