Larkin involuntarily began cataloguing details. He was tall—six feet at least—though his shapeless PPE offered little else by way of physical details. His brown hair—honey, caramel—why were subcategories of hair color always the names of foods? Larkin wondered—was plastered across his forehead. He was classically handsome, sort of like a hardboiled PI brought to life from the pages of an old pulp novel.
I think I will be highlighting a lot of vivid descriptions in this book. I am so here for it.
