H.L. Sudler

Knowing too much had turned him into something else, and he wasn't sure he liked this newer him, although he felt he could not stop being this other him, darker.

There is nothing so sexy as a good-looking man in a good-looking pair of shorts.

Even in the gay spots around town, he could walk in and suddenly realize he was the only person of color in the room. He faced questions in all the eyes he greeted. What__ he doing here? Does he think he__ one of us? How ironic that even here in the nation__ self-proclaimed __ay summer capital_ he should feel unwanted, excluded.

He could not have faced her right then. He had started to sense their relationship was over, that she wanted more than he could ever give her. They hardly saw each other any longer, had nothing much to discuss, and had even ceased doing the one thing they were good at. Still, to smell the sheets where she had lain brought him a certain peace, lulling him to sleep under the veil of her perfume. He dreamed they were married, running beneath a flurry of white rose petals, and then a door slammed shut, and suddenly he was awake. He was back at Cedar House, and it was night and the room was dark.

Before the autumn of our years, there exists a time when we struggle to reconcile what we are with what we wish to be. This time can be known as summer. After spring gives us life, before winter takes it away.

She had traveled to more cities, had experienced more scenes, than anyone she knew, and still she had come away from it all with only an abysmal sense of dissatisfaction. When would it all begin, the good part of this story she was living? When would she find her destiny, her purpose? When would she have the control her mother wielded, the drive her father possessed? When would she cease living the same wretched days over and over? Why was she still feeling empty and meaningless? Why__fter all this time__id her purpose in life still escape her?

The ocean drummed as loud as pulsating blood, eroding the sand, rushing the beach as if it had a point to prove. And like many things, it receded, was gone, and was replaced anew.

Warren was nearly hoarse as he wiped the tears from his eyes and face. "I need to change. I need to protect my family. I need to earn who I am.

Do you know how many men are incarcerated in solitary confinement? About 100,000 on any given day, if my numbers are correct. Do you know how many men commit suicide in The Hole? Very high. Twenty-four hours in a box with no windows can break a man. Some more quickly than others.

Look at you. Riding the gravy train with biscuit wheels.

I feel sorry for you, Detective Esteban. Because I'm all out of patience, and you're all out of time. I'm sure we'll see each other again someday. In Hell. Save a seat for me.

Do me a favor, Dallas. Tell me what games we're playing today so I can be sure to play along too.