Her wavy, shoulder-length hair was the colour of polished mahogany.
Normal? Hateful word, normal. No meaning whatsoever.
It’s usually some badass makes a young girl’s heart beat faster.
I like your eyes when you get mad,” I said. “They glow like embers.
All along the avenue, cotton candy stands, fun houses, and games of chance were tightly shuttered, like clowns without makeup.
Demerol made it all seem okay.
No matter how cleverly you sneak up on a mirror your reflection always looks you straight in the eye.