Bricks were molting off the building like it had some sort of architectural mange.
I’d like to know more about how the narrator is feeling - especially about all of these frustrating people she’s having to deal with.
We were cruising down 35E, in one of the most construction-filled areas. Naturally. I fought my way across traffic, ignoring how George still grabbed for his seatbelt. I headed west on a side road, just for somewhere to go, and soon Louise was telling me to turn around. “Wrong way.” “Fifty-fifty shot at it,” I shrugged, and made a sharp U-turn in front of several cars. When in Dallas, drive like a Dallasite – like a maniac.
Ooooo! Tell me a bit more about The Diner. What’s it like there?
We hit it between the breakfast and lunch rushes, so we managed to snag a corner booth.
The rounds shrieked like a movie monster’s death cry.
The rounds shrieked like a movie monster’s death cry.
