The Laughing Dead (Steinbeck and Reed, #3)

by Jess Lourey

I’d discovered long ago that allowing a superior to complete his man-o-logue uninterrupted was the quickest way to move the situation forward.

We walked into grief alone; the only way out was together. It was a cruel truth.

They were too busy running from their pain, making up stories about why everyone else was the problem.

Being raised with a Laura Ingalls Wilder lifestyle under a Charles Manson leadership did not garner one a lot of party invitations.

when did a victim stop being a victim and start being responsible for what they allowed to happen to others? It was a trick question. They were always a victim, and they were always—once they became an adult—responsible for the harm they permitted.

It was a human truth that we all needed someone to blame. Too often, we chose ourselves.

I’d found that repeating someone’s words back to them was often the shortest route to showing them they were an idiot.