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Once Mom finally came to terms with the fact that my brother was gay, she became convinced he was a serial killer. “He has all the signs,” she told me as she trimmed my hair. “Signs?” I asked, watching her in the…
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Through a curtain of dark hair only part of the girl's face could be seen. Her expression embodied a reticent sort of tolerance.
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"I'm a Barbecued Salmon Sandwich," the Chauffeur said, emphasizing with his eyes, trying to prompt the Prima Donna to indicate that she "got it," though it was, of course, utter nonsense.
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