Into the lunch room he stalked and deposited twenty cents upon the counter.
Biff Carter paused in his reading, looked over at the purveyor who was himself. I’ve been underpaid! he realized.
It was 1919 now. He’d lost twenty years somehow. Just by reading the book.
He went over and paid the purveyor twenty cents to make up for the time. Back to reality!
Tome firmly in hand, ex-police officer Biff Carter walked out of the The Red Book, never needing to return.
“It worked.”
Sunklands 