
Imagine you're alone in an art house cinema. Just as you take your seat a movie snaps on with a loud disturbing clatter. No coming attractions, no fanfare. Within moments you're riveted by characters trapped in a vortex of icy desolation and desperation. This is the old school spiral down, slippery noir I've been searching for... THE COLD KISS. Buy it and read it. I didn't breathe until page 184. Seriously.