I'm sorry to have to tell you this way, but your mother and I are separating." When I pressed my mouth together, he corrected, "Stepmother. We're just - We're going in different directions." "I don't know what to say, Dad. 'Hurray' just seems wrong.

Try writing an entire story with only a thousand words at your disposal. It’s a terrific lesson in economy and precession.

You rented the apartment with a dead guy in the corner?” I shrugged. “I wanted the apartment, and I figured I could cover him up with a bookcase or something.

My prodding me didn't elicit a reaction. His unseeing eyes stared straight through me. Which was odd. He'd seemed so sane huddled in Cookie's trunk.

Want coffee?" I asked, as I headed that way. "It's three thirty in the morning." "Okay. Want coffee?

Can you find out how owns C and R industries? They bought the old abandoned mental asylum downtown." "That old thing? What are they going to do with it?" "I don't know. I was hoping their overcompensating sign would say, but it just says 'private property' and shouts lots of threats in capital letters, all of which I plan to completely ignore later.

Friends don't let friends get killed by serial killers