Two people, a man and your ex, Maura, are in the car,” Reynolds says. “Officer Canton pulls them over for a DUI. Something spooks them. They panic, shoot Officer Canton twice in the back of the head, take off.
But see, feminism isn’t about helping a fellow sister. It’s about an equal playing field. It’s about giving women choices, not guarantees.” Tia.
The faded engraving read: A Ma Vie de Coer Entier, which was a fifteenth-century French saying, “You Have My Whole Heart for My Whole Life.
The course was packed with silent fans, though fan didn’t exactly feel like the right word to Myron. Parishioners was a hell of a lot closer. There was a constant reverie on a golf course, a hushed, wide-eyed respect. Every time the ball was hit, the crowd release was nearly orgasmic.
Relationships and marriages are hard enough, but you add war into the mix and small fissures become gaping wounds. No one sees what you’re seeing – again that clear-eyed, unbiased thing – except your fellow soldiers. It’s like one of those movies where only the hero can see the ghosts and everyone else thinks the hero is crazy. In.
A door behind the desk opened, and a short, wiry man entered. His short-sleeved dress shirt was shiny and unbuttoned down to the navel, revealing a host of gold chains and, uh, bling. His arms were knotted, ropy muscle. Have you ever seen someone who gave you the chills just by entering a room? This guy had that. Even the big bouncer, who had to be a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than the short guy, took half a step back. A hush fell over us. The.
Obsession does not seek out problems and correct them; it manufactures them out of nothing, feeds them, makes them stronger.
He loved her. She loved him. Simple but there you have it. You have careers and you raise kids and there are victories and defeats and you just sort of coast along, living your life, the days long. The years short, and then every once in a while, you remember to pull up and look at your partner, your life partner, really look at the one who travels down the lonely road right by your side, and you realize how much you are in this together.
I treat every student who walks through those doors the same because we are here to teach, if not political science, maybe a little something about critical thinking or even – gasp! – life. If students came to us fully formed and without insecurities, what would be the point?
All around her, children and families played and laughed and reveled in the glory of this seemingly ordinary day. They did so without fear or care because they didn’t get it. They all played and they all laughed and they felt so damn safe. They didn’t see how fragile it all was.
He just said the base did boring agriculture stuff. Counting cows and crops, that’s how he put it.” “What’s the second thing?” “The closing of the base.” “Right, when was that?” “Fifteen years ago,” Kaufman says. “Three months after your brother and Augie’s daughter were found dead.
Captain Midnight is always careful.” “It’s not just Captain Midnight I’m worried about it. It’s his alter ego.” “And who might that be?” “My Love Muffin.” Myron grinned into the receiver. “Hey, Jess, did you know Joan Collins was on Batman?” “Of course,” Jessica said. “She played the Siren.” “Oh yeah? Well, who did Liberace play?
She circled in front of the woman, trying not to be too obvious, ducking behind taller people, and when she was in the right place, Edna spun around. The possible-Katie was walking toward her. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and Edna knew.
It all changed in an instant. That was something I had learned the hard way. Your world doesn’t come apart slowly. It doesn’t gradually crumble or break into pieces. It can be destroyed in a snap of the fingers. So.
I always assumed I’d find love like that. But now I don’t want it. It isn’t healthy. It makes you too dependent. You smile when they smile. You laugh when they laugh. But when they stop laughing, so do you. And when they die, a part of you dies too.
He had learned never to disturb her when the keyboard was clacking. He left a quick note and slipped out. He grabbed the 6 train up to midtown and walked to the Kinney lot on 46th Street. Mario tossed him the keys without glancing up from his paper.
Everyone looks happy,” he’d said to Corinne. “Oh, not you too.” “What?” “Everyone looks happy on Facebook,” Corinne said. “It’s like a compilation of your life’s greatest hits.
Most people oversimplify Occam’s razor to mean the simplest answer is usually correct. But the real meaning, what the Franciscan friar William of Ockham really wanted to emphasize, is that you shouldn’t complicate, that you shouldn’t “stack” a theory if a simpler explanation was at the ready. Pare it down. Prune the excess.
You read me,” Myron said, “like Vasco da Gama reads a map.” Dimonte.
A man who had to be Detective Roland Dimonte answered the door. He was dressed in jeans, paisley green shirt, black leather vest. He also had on the ugliest pair of snakeskin boots – snow-white with flecks of purple – Myron had ever seen. His hair was greasy. Several strands were matted to his forehead like to flypaper. A toothpick – an actual toothpick – was jutting out of his mouth. His eyes were set deep in a pudgy face, like someone had stuck two brown pebbles in at the last minute. Myron.