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a faceless clock which he kept wound just to listen to the ticking, a lug wrench with a hand-shaped handle which he would hold in lonely moments, an egg slicer upon whose wires he would pluck primitive tunes…
But when dawn came, she saw his face.
“And then you pounce like a tiger. ‘Remorseless, lecherous, treacherous, kindless villain…”’ “What’s that?” “Something a man named Shakespeare wrote.
No one will ever know your pretense turned tail.”
“Prom reality.
Typo
A criminal never surrenders while he’s ahead. You’re obviously ahead. What’s the reason?” “The most damnable thing that ever happened to a man. I picked up a rare disease called conscience.” Sheffield snorted. “That can often turn fatal.” “It is fatal. I’ve realized that I’ve been behaving like an animal.”
