Brod stopped her before she could fling the latte in Marcella’s face.
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Stopping it, Cye knows, is like stopping a tsunami with a tennis racket.
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she had big eyes, the better to see right through a person.
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He was staring at his car like you might a stare at a dog.
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The onus is on you, because you care about your car and your life.
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At a red light he touches his cheek. The stubbly skin is sensitive, febrile.
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While they stand in line Robin leans into his chest. They don't talk.
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