Small Mercies

by Dennis Lehane

Poor people talking shit about poor people. Race don’t come into it. They keep us fighting among ourselves like dogs for table scraps so we won’t catch them making off with the feast.

like a trio of sacred C-words—communion, consecration, consummation.

Old Lady McGowan pulled him off and slapped him a few times

Bobby knows, those gunfights led to limited results, a shitload of property damage, and a new micro-generation of substandard cops who think they can compensate for bad instincts, poor people skills, and limited intelligence with high-powered weaponry.