“Karen” by Steven Horwitz
This guy had a scar on his cheek as dry as the Arroyo Taiban.
This guy had a scar on his cheek as dry as the Arroyo Taiban.
Cold permeated. I’d been shaking uncontrollably, teeth rattling, for the better part of an hour; every time I’d try to make myself stop, the shaking would multiply by an exponent and my mind would wander off somewhere else . . .
The cop’s fingers were as thick as the sausages he stabbed with the fork and stuffed in his mouth. Probably as greasy, too, Tual thought as he drank coffee in a booth. He watched the cop sitting at the counter . . .