Vintage books, old china, antiques; maybe I love old things so much because I feel impermanent myself.

...Jake, a homosexual cop buried so deep in the closet he didn't know where to look for himself.

He was probably selfish in the sack. Probably selfish and greedy and...unsophisticated. And hung like a horse.

All cynics are disappointed idealists. The more stars in the eyes, the harder the fall.

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.

And yet there was something about his strength, his arrogance, his sheer size that got under my skin. He probably couldn't even spell vanilla. He was probably selfish in the sack. Probably selfish and greedy and...unsophisticated. And hung like a horse.

I love you," Jake whispered. "Are you strong enough for this?" I made myself comfortable. Said over my shoulder, "Sure." "Would you tell me if you weren't?" I grinned. "Maybe. I can't think of a nicer way to commit suicide." "That's good. I can't think of a more pleasant way to commit murder.