Charles resumed monitoring the 32 part You Tube upload of Wimbledon's 2008 final match, looking for appearances of Georgina, the ball girl.

I respect mom, she survived cancer and all while she was pregnant with me, but something about getting through all that crap made her heart tough, like an over-cooked piece of beef, and no one likes meat you have to chew forever.

I wriggled in the bed and felt the sheets soaked with perspiration. My arms were lined with tape and tubing, needles pressed in veins. I reached for the cloth again and again, and every time they stopped me. The hands that came were cold and hard, urgent

Bobby Putnam was an idiot. He was a successful idiot, a wealthy idiot, an idiot born of Connecticut royalty into an ancient and venerable name, but a raving and mindless idiot.

My name is Sydnée Figge, and this is the beginning of my story. I suppose it should be said that even though people call me Syd, I am not a man. People who can actually see me know that right away, and I’m not ashamed of that even though I’m a bit olde

Or at least that is the way Dad explained it one night after finishing the Emergency Vodka he hid behind the ice trays on his last night in the old apartment in Providence.

A Russian bear has trapped a full-grown Texan and absconded with him to his Baltic den, and we don’t know why. But we are hunting him, hunting them both. The Russian and the Texan.

Honey, you eat this salmon, now