The old reporter's vast institutional knowledge and years of doggedly pursuing the truth failed to impress his new bosses who were really into short punchy videos and memes, lots of memes.

Hank called himself a "rover" because it sounded classier than "homeless hitchhiker."

"I remember when I used to give a crap about the world just like you," her father laughed without mirth, "but look where that got me."

His self-appointed mission was simply to stir up controversy wherever he could.

My mind returned to a half-remembered time when anything seemed possible but we were too stoned to achieve much more than making it to work on time.

Our private lives had become just another commodity.

The drawing, tattered and yellowing, proved the stories the family had told her were lies.

The starlings always arrived with a fluttering of feathers and a cacophonous squawking like a gaggle of retirees getting off a casino-bound bus.

Eric entered prison a boy whose mother fed and clothed him and walked out a grown man with no idea of how the adult world was supposed to work.

The country was of two minds when it came to double standards, dealing, talk, edged swords, or nothing.

He was just like everybody else except he was willing to sacrifice his life for a cause.

We braced for the next storm, whether weather, political, or personal.

Seconds became minutes became hours in which she continued to scroll down her feed seeking enlightenment without success.

It was an ever-changing cast of clowns and cowards. 

Who turned out to be the truest friends was often a complete mystery to Marla.

They'd managed to turn what was sacred to profane ends.

I couldn't help but feel a little thrill when I heard the news about my enemy, yet there was a touch of sadness there too.

Alice burned every bridge and that's why she drowned.

The old researcher hunted forgotten history like other men hunted big game.

The sweep of the brush across the canvas thrilled her more than the touch of her lover's lips.

"Let them subsist on spectacle," the leader crowed as the vast military parade rolled down the street.

Rachel decided the Rapture wasn't on the way and dedicated the rest of her days to earthly pleasure.

The sound of Harry James' trumpet from a warped record drifted through the cracked window with the torn curtains.

The snow globe-like scene outside the window was marred by the knowledge that they would soon have to dig out the car.

He was a carpenter of words.

Olivia lived her life as if always on stage.

What had once been an aura of budding greatness had dimmed to a faint patina of anticlimax.

When I'm not drinking she's on my mind.

The hinges wouldn't hold any longer and the door came crashing down from the weight of the lies and secrets.

She had a cigarette between her lips and an icepick in her hand.