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Roxanne Santa Cruz was tall, square shouldered, and thin, though not so thin you wanted to feed her a cheeseburger.
Perspective is everything. My tenants looked at me and thought I had it all, every ounce of hope and grace in the world. Helping them made me think they were right, and maybe that explained everything. Maybe it was just that simple.
Sometimes happiness gets to be too much. You become convinced you’re bored and look around for something more when there is nothing more.
When the sun always shines, you hunt for trouble. That’s just how people are.
If I’d been involved, the first thing I would’ve said was no ponytails. Your lawyer in a death penalty case should never have a ponytail. Gabriel’s reached the middle of his back. From the front he looked bald. From behind, he looked like he had an aged ferret crawling up his spine with dastardly intent.
“Everybody’s busy. I see what’s out there.” “No, you don’t and neither did I, until I hit bottom. And there they were, all over the place.” “Maybe they should try working. A wild idea, right?” “The jobs that pay are all gone,” I said. “If you walk around with a bunch of keys on your belt, this country’s got no use for you anymore.”
Not loving liquor is a gift. It keeps you out of bad situations on dark sidewalks after midnight. When you’re young and not part of the action, you wonder what you’re missing. After thirty, you realize you’re not missing anything.
