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By Artur Sadlos |
It was dark, cold, scuttling and strange in the comic book shop that night.
Not that the place was unfamiliar to me. It was that same comic book store my mother took me to a few weeks before this paticular night I speak of. She thought, after the colostrum of the Hobbit, read to me before the winter of my birthtime came again, that the store would appeal to me. It was so that I welcomed the store into my heart, Heroes and Fantasies was its name (it is no more now...).