Noah

81%
Flag icon
And it turned into a party, glasses would break, men would sweat, women would lose shoes and earrings and their makeup would run—the ones who wore makeup, not many—and they’d hug, proclaim their love for each other, just like that, I love you, fucking Negro, and Gaspar felt he couldn’t ascend to that level with them. He’d said as much to Isabel. It’s like we’re all going up a flight of stairs together and at a certain point I say “this is as far as I go.” And on that step, higher up, they’re all happy and I watch them from below. Had he always been like that? It wasn’t shyness or reserve or ...more
Our Share of Night
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview