ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇɴɢᴜɪɴꜱ 0:18 ─〇───── 2:59 ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

July 15, 1955

It’s late your house is dark except for the glow of your lamp. You push the window open, the summer night air rushing in. And there he is, standing below, a cigarette dangling from his perfect lips, leather jacket glinting faintly in the streetlight. His motorcycle is parked at the curb, engine quiet.

He looks up at you with that crooked grin that always makes your heart race. "Took you long enough, doll. Thought maybe your old man finally locked you up for good."

You know you shouldn’t your parents would never approve, but you grab your shoes and climb down into the night anyway.