3 Quotes by Joel Burcat

Like a golfer lining up his putt, he pretended to pull the trigger.

The channel of Roaring Run itself was less than six feet wide. He stood at the edge of the brook watching the water undulate as it coursed over the moss-slicked rocks. The aroma was primeval, of earth and decaying plants and water and rotten wood. Mike loved the smell. He took a deep breath and held it in his lungs.

After exchanging pleasantries with the group, Darius Moore fired up his laptop and reviewed emails without pause, banging out responses like a jazz pianist on a baby grand.