“Evan was more certain than ever that Scott had stolen money from him. It”
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,”
“Rumors are like pigeons. They fly everywhere and make a mess wherever they go.”
“It was a gorgeous end-of-summer-just-starting-to-befall day. The trees swayed in the breeze. The sky was the color of cornflowers.”
“Everything’s awful,” said Jessie, picking at a corner of her bedroom wallpaper that was peeling. She explained to her grandmother about the trial yesterday and the basketball game and Scott kicking the ball into the swamp. She told her how Evan had to hunt for the ball for half an hour before finally finding it, and how he told all his friends to just go home, he’d find it himself, just go home. So they did. And how Evan and Jessie were left to look for the ball, and how Evan didn’t talk the whole time they did. “And today he’s not even eating, or anything,” said Jessie. “Did you know that it’s Yom Kippur?” “Yom Kippur, is that the one where the kids dress up?” asked Jessie’s grandmother. “No, that’s Purim.” Grandma was always mixing up things like that, things that sounded kind of the same, but were different. During their last phone call, she was talking with Jessie about the sequoia trees in California, but she kept using the word sequester instead. “Yom Kippur is the day when the Jewish people ask for forgiveness and they don’t eat.” “Is Evan Jewish now?” asked Grandma. “No, but he’s not eating. He says he’s not hungry,” said Jessie. “Sometimes that happens to me,” Grandma said. “I practically forget to eat.” “But Evan’s always hungry,” said Jessie. “Mom says he’s a bottomless pit.” “He’ll eat when he’s ready,” said Grandma. “Let it go.” Jessie hated it when her grandmother said that. She was always telling Jessie to let it go and be the tree. Crazy yoga grandma. How could anyone be a tree? “But”
“I still feel really bad about it,” said Jessie. “That’s good,” said Grandma.”
“From now, his life was forged for one purpose and one purpose alone- revenge.”
“But I love to feel events overlapping each other, crawling over one another like wet crabs in a basket”
“Se que cuando mi carrera acabe no seré un hombre feliz y quiero aprovecharla al máximo mientras dure.”
“know he was here for her, that she could share her grief, and he would help her through it the best he could. Her cheek and hand rested on his chest, and he could feel her soft sobs. He wanted with everything in him to say something that would make it better, but what could he say? What could anyone say? It had all been said in one, thoughtless, reckless act by someone he would never know. “Thank you,” she said softly. He tilted his head to be able to see her. “For what?” “For”
“[T]he only luxury he allows himself is buying books, paperback books, mostly novels, American novels, British novels, foreign novels in translation, but in the end books are not luxuries so much as necessities, and reading is an addiction he has no wish to be cured of.”
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