Sublime

Though his dark skin was not his fault, it was his burden, and he simply had to make the best of it.

Shadow had done three years in prison. He was big enough and looked don’t-fuck-with-me enough that his biggest problem was killing time. So he kept himself in shape, and taught himself coin tricks, and thought a lot about how much he loved his wife.

Wallace wasn’t clear on what he wanted, unless it was to be left alone—except when he didn’t.

Turner frowned. Any time a white man asked you about yourself, they were about to fuck you over.

that her face was sloped and ursine.

just so long as they aren’t psychos.

With pugilistic quickness, he crowded Joe against an iron pillar, crooked an arm around Joe’s neck, and gave him a swift punch in the stomach. Joe’s breath deserted his body in a single hard gust and he pitched forward, striking his chin on the concrete platform. His eyeballs seemed to clang in their sockets. He felt as if someone had opened an umb

He was a gaunt young man who seemed suspicious of conversation that strayed outside certain unspecified guidelines.