He was unaware of the darkness and the sharp chiming of metal and rock. He didn’t flinch when a chip of stone struck his face or arms. He wasn’t even aware that one of his arms hammered steadily–sometimes in heavy staccato blows, sometimes in a series of taps–or that his other arm wielded the chisel...
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By Tom Beaver, 1992 She heard Ed’s heavy feet pound slowly up the porch stair and thought, he’s still brooding, still lumbering about in a daze. She smirked, thinking, you would expect a man his size to have more fortitude, but he never had much of that, he has a definite courage in his writing,...
They both wanted the same thing but didn't know it yet — a life together, without the damn monkey.
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