John Hart

She turned the water scalding hot and scrubbed her face until it hurt, but the eyes still looked wrong. She tore off her clothes and stepped into the shower; but it was not enough. The dirt was on the inside.

Lightening falls, all you can do is- pray God that it doesn't fall on you.

We can all live with doubts. It's the knowing that breaks us.

Then she turned for the great mouth of a door, and by the time it inhaled her, she was a much older woman.

I'd been awake for thirty-six hours and driving for ten. Restless weeks, sleepless nights, and the decision stole into me like a thief. I never planned to go back to North Carolina- I'd buried it- but I blinked and found my hands on the wheel, Manhattan a sinking island to the north. I wore a week-old beard and three day denim, felt stretched by an edginess that bordered on pain, but no one here would fail to recognize me. That's what home was all about, for good or bad.

Disgust was an organ in Hunt's gut. The more he thought about it, the more it churned.