Their laughter was like the stridulation of the ghosts of grasshoppers.
Does it bother you when you see Daddy kissing Josh?_ he asked.Ty shook his head and made a funny face. __o, not really. I guess you really like him a lot.___ do,_ Rex agreed. __ love Josh.___ love Josh too, and so I don__ care if you kiss him. But I thought boys only kissed girls.__ex nodded. __eah, well, that__ how it is most of the time, but you know some boys kiss other boys and some girls kiss other girls.___ell, I don__ wanna kiss no girls!_ Ty said emphatically.Rex and Josh both laughed. __aybe someday you will, though. If you do, that__ fine, and if you don__, that__ fine too. For right now, you can just kiss Daddy._ He leaned in and kissed Ty on the forehead.
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Does it bother you when you see Daddy kissing Josh?_ he asked.Ty shook his head and made a funny face. __o, not really. I guess you really like him a lot.___ do,_ Rex agreed. __ love Josh.___ love Josh too, and so I don__ care if you kiss him. But I thought boys only kissed girls.__ex nodded. __eah, well, that__ how it is most of the time, but you know some boys kiss other boys and some girls kiss other girls.___ell, I don__ wanna kiss no girls!_ Ty said emphatically.Rex and Josh both laughed. __aybe someday you will, though. If you do, that__ fine, and if you don__, that__ fine too. For right now, you can just kiss Daddy._ He leaned in and kissed Ty on the forehead.
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Just behind his jaw bones a tiny movement was perceptible, like the movement of gills in a fish.
Franklin Fletcher dreamed of luxury in the form of tiger-skins and beautiful women. He was prepared, at a pinch, to forgo the tiger-skins. Unfortunately the beautiful women seemed equally rare and inaccessible. At his office and at his boarding-house the girls were mere mice, or cattish, or kittenish, or had insufficiently read the advertisements.
How happy I might be, if only she was less greedy, better tempered, not addicted to raking up old grudges, more affectionate, with slightly yellower hair, slimmer, and about twenty years younger! But what is the good of expecting such a woman to reform?
There are some young almond tress, which ordinarily look as if drawn by a childish hand. Now, as the wind sets their weak branches gibbering, they seem like shamanistic scratches on the white bone of the brittle bright night.