Sublime

bellicose

lechery,

It’s made him careless, coming back from the dead. He’d never have walked blithely across a moor in the old days. Suicide. He’s used to being pampered now, cars and helicopters and warm beds whenever he’s above ground. He’s forgotten the basics.

That evening, after the kids had been tucked into bed and kissed good night, Tarbell and Sabrina sat across from each other at the kitchen table. They both had handguns next to them in case someone tried to enter the home.

They watch TV and have their dessert, spooning up a mixture of raspberry sorbet and Peter Steinman’s brains.

covet

Life was seething in an undertone; it moved with a cunning languor, like a hunted animal in its den. The world seemed centuries away.