Because her self-appointed super-star lawyer husband traveled so much for work, Lucy spent a lot of time alone.
It was toward the end of September 1956 when the leaves from all the inner-city trees had already fallen.
Adam, in a horrid state, rouses himself up and searches about, no one to be seen.
The hypnotist’s voice is a glacial lake: smooth, distant, cold, and piercing.
I just wish I had my freedom.
I confess it again and again.
The collective standing of forty civil servants in unison either signals lunch or end of day.