Something told him that something was coming to an end. Not the world, exactly. Just the summer. There would be other summers, but there would never be one like this. Ever again.

“Sometimes fiction is a way of coping with the poison of the world in a way that…”

“I would not wish to marry someone who had already been married. It would be,' s…”

“He's out here, somewhere, and he wants you dead,' she said. 'Him as killed your…”

“I'm a mother," said her mother, in her foodless flat where the dust did not dar…”