Nothing More To Tell
Karen McManus
'“What a warm welcome back to Saint Ambrose, huh?” she says. “Population: messed up.”'
'“What a warm welcome back to Saint Ambrose, huh?” she says. “Population: messed up.”'
"It’s night but the scene is ablaze with gaudy neon and streetlamps. People everywhere. Like a writhing mass of luridly colored insects."
"On my first day here fourteen long months ago, she sat on my bunk, squeezed my knee with her horribly long fingernails and told me that she knew what I’d done, and thought it was fantastic."
“I found three unearthed graves,” he said. “Someone dug them up.”
"A few minutes ago, I said Jacques Derrida’s name out loud."
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