Their laughter was like the stridulation of the ghosts of grasshoppers.
Do you wanna go out for lunch? In celebration?_ I askedand then touched my lips in thought. __r we could swing by the storeand get something really good for dinner?__esley glanced at me sideways with a puzzled expression Icouldn__ figure out. He looked back at the road. __aybe later,_ he said, chewing on his thumbnail.__hy? Since we__e out, we might as well stop_.___e can__ right now. There are things I have to do first,_ he said,looking at me with a grin.__hat?_ I asked, innocently walking into his trap, though Ishould__e known better by now.__ike take you home and fuck you up, down, and sideways,_ heanswered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Wes and Toren
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Do you wanna go out for lunch? In celebration?_ I askedand then touched my lips in thought. __r we could swing by the storeand get something really good for dinner?__esley glanced at me sideways with a puzzled expression Icouldn__ figure out. He looked back at the road. __aybe later,_ he said, chewing on his thumbnail.__hy? Since we__e out, we might as well stop_.___e can__ right now. There are things I have to do first,_ he said,looking at me with a grin.__hat?_ I asked, innocently walking into his trap, though Ishould__e known better by now.__ike take you home and fuck you up, down, and sideways,_ heanswered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
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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.