Friendships, like marriages, are dependent on avoiding the unforgivable.

Chook’s phone went to nine rings before she answered in the gritty rancor of interrupted sleep. But her voice changed when she recognized mine. “Trav! I phoned you last night. Who is that Mrs. Atkinson?

The eye records. The eye takes vivid, unforgettable pictures.

I just don’t know. Maybe I’m good, but that goddamn scale would hesitate a long time before tilting that way.

He tottered in. In a few moments he came out, hair piece in place. But the haggardness of his face made it look more spurious than before.

These are the little losers in the bunny derby, but they lose on a different route than the Mariannes, or the ones you see in the supermarket on the nights when they double the green stamps, coming in junk cars, plodding the bright aisles, snarling at their cross sleepy kids.

Every day, no matter how you fight it, you learn a little more about yourself, and all most of it does is teach humility.

I heard his hasty footsteps on the dock. I kept my head down. I heard the thump and felt it as he leaped down into the cockpit. I heard his grunt of consternation. He would have to find out, and find out quickly.

I don’t often do this much talking for so little reason, McGee. You have a nice touch. You’re an eager listener. You smile in the right places. It puts people on. And, of course, you haven’t leveled with me.

I went into the lunchroom. A stocky young girl in a soiled green jumper sat at a table reading a fan magazine. She got up slowly when the screen door creaked. She had enormous breasts and she looked like Buddy Hackett.