botte

short on words

... of course, when you’re standing naked by the fire, there is no real space for words.

I see the man shooting: dark jeans, white sneakers, and bald as a baby, swinging the pistol wildly, hoping for luck or God to direct his slugs.

...do not read this, this is not meant for you to read...

I will show you. I will show you soon. I will show you now.

“Thank you, Jimmy.”

It's the polite thing to do.

Maybe a physical shadow – skin cells left that have combined their DNA with the tendriled confusion of the clovered outfield...

"There's blood in the water all over the place around here," Clem told me.

His fingers were soft, his lips delicate.