She brushed her hair, watching her hazel eyes, her wide lips, and her creamy dark complexion. The card lay on the vanity: John P. Fletcher. She put on the white dress she had laid out on her bed. She opened her purse, slid in the compact Ruger, silver with a black handgrip, and walked slowly to the corner . . .
The first thing out of his mouth when I sat down was about the High Park. I hadn’t been in maybe a year or so since I’d moved out of the neighborhood, but my brother was a regular . . .
A riderless horse clopping with hungry purpose down the block was not such a rare sight on that part of the West Side then. . .
These punks sure picked an appropriate place to play at the apocalypse . . .
Reading is fundamental. It is also free at the public library, making it the activity of choice for mothers of young children everywhere . . .
“The chimpanzee with a bandaged forehead grabbed a hypodermic needle . . .”
We huddled around the card table last night, scheming about dusting outta this joint during the morning bus trip.
Norman drove towards his home town of Sycamore, Missouri. It was about sunup on a Sunday. He had been driving for many hours.