You couldn't hurt a fly." Actually I was pretty good at pinging flies right out of the air, but I tried to look appropriately harmless.

Cops before breakfast.Before coffee even. As if Mondays weren't bad enough.

A pause followed my greeting. Then “We’re watching you ” whispered the voice on the other end. “Yeah? Did you see what I did with my keys? ” Silence. Then dial tone. These younger demons. So easily discouraged.

Shrugging out of the damaged shirt, Jake said roughly, “I still dream about you.” “I have nightmares about you.” I dragged my T-shirt over my head, threw it aside.

He never lied to me. I just didn't ask the questions I didn't want to know the answers to.

Have I ever told you, you look like Monty Clift? he inquired in a deep, seductive voice. Before or after the accident?

I’m never wrong? Who besides Republican presidents and evil masterminds can say that with a straight face?