Loved this chapter from beginning to end…all I got is…where’s the measurement?
Flynn squeezed his hand. "I don't run."
“You might want to when Gary gets his dick out.”
Who in LA doesn’t know about O’Briain’s tab
Dr. Okonkwo watched them with an expression that was somewhere between amusement and exhaustion. "If you're done, I have other patients. Myra will handle the paperwork. And O'Briain?"
"Yeah?"
"Pay your tab."
It came to me in the last chapter that I thought our sun king was the culprit….and while that thought is the progenitor of a few red herrings, until otherwise demonstrated, I suspect Bastian is the killer…
Thanks to the wisdom of the comments above, what I had planned to say has pretty much been covered….just so tremendously sad,
And as noted, even today our pick and chose religious zealots bastardized their faiths. They do so to cover their ignorance and bigotry and revel in their actions.
Someone once asked, how would one eat an elephant, only to hear, one bite at a time!
Johnny has built the foundation form his career, and the next steps is to successfully build a fantastic career...
I have to wonder, was the expression on George’s face before seeing the black hole event horizon, a direct result of seeing Mickey in glorious underwear action…
George stood from his corner, and stared out of the viewport with it’s jaw hanging open, and pointing in sheer terror.
This chapter could have been called Stormy Waters…..I give Callum kudos for realizing he was so very close to stepping over the line…
Aled was able to gain closure with his return to the farm….
In a way, I feel sorry for Frank, beneath that gruff exterior is a sad and miserable boy. it seems to me he was the clumsy outsider amongst his peers, the one picked last when teams formed up for games.
Frank leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. For a moment the professional mask slipped just enough for Marc to see the man underneath: tired but satisfied, the loner who pushed everyone away but maybe did not want to anymore. Then the mask returned.
Who doesn't love a good short story, one that fuels the imagination when a new universe of possibility is created. Drawing the reader in and leaving questions and thoughts to ponder and ruminate on. One of my personal favorites was The Lottery by Shirley Jackson. Such great care was taken in creating a world that left me wanting to know more about this world, the whys, the hows, and the what-if's...
And that, my friends, is the power of a short story...