The neon lights of the bar flickered like distant stars in the smoky haze, casting long shadows across the worn wooden tables and cracked leather booths. Ned Hillsdale sat alone at the bar, nursing a glass of bourbon as he brooded over the sorry state of the world. It seemed to him that corruption had seeped into every facet of society, staining even the noblest of intentions with its toxic touch. As he watched the patrons laughing and drinking around him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of bitter disillusionment gnawing at his soul.
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Ned Hillsdale and Shadows of Doubt | Ned Hillsdale, Private Detective podcast - Listen or read transcript on Metacast
