It's not new anymore, I said. I'm usually a pretty good judge of height. I think I'm always a little afraid I'll get him caught in the zipper. Harper’s, The NewYorker, anthologized by Joyce Carol Oates.
Kleiser, she said softly, you can't expect results instantaneously. I was the last one in the truck, the door was closed, and a uniformed cop climbed onto the backstep, clinging to the rails on either side. Asher lay there on his back, his hair spilled around his face like a halo, crimson blood glittered on his chin, his neck, his upper chest. That is not my problem, Zerbrowski.
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