"I don't know why you're always looking down your nose at me," the prostitute told the banker as they lay in bed, "since we're in the same business."

As I walked out, the light was blinding and the air almost too cool and fresh after my years spent under fluorescent light and breathing the stale chemical-cleaner laden variety.

Our joy was trampled, our hopes spit on and dreams laughed at by the men in power.

The clanking sound of the closing jail cell stuck with Ray until the end.

Jill hated to watch old white people dance, especially if they had been drinking, finding it both disturbing and mesmerizing.

Panic set in and in the rush towards the door her hand slipped from his.

The street appeared to be safe, but was narrow.