Frank liked life in the gutter since there was no chance of falling any further and all that was left was up.

Nothing was as it seemed.

Through the web of memory she reached back to touch the face of her mother, trying to remember every line, angle, ridge, and contour.

The only question, William believed, was whether to accept the inevitable and get along as best you could or to take up arms in a vain attempt at revolution, but neither choice seemed tenable.

Through the silently rolling fog I could just make out the half-frozen creek and the mountains beyond.

In the twilight hours between dreams came the niggling demons well versed in woe making.

As the hangover began to lift, the fear of the future began to sink in.