“The pool was bleeding. Byron noticed, adrift in shade on my shark floater: an acorn hit him on the head and he’d opened his eyes to find it bobbing in the water, ribbons of red uncoiling beneath. Came and got me and I got mom and she got dad.”
“He squeezed the steering wheel with both hands and eyeballed the minivan parked in front of a faded pink singlewide. If Gene Holcomb had blown any of his lottery winnings, he’d not spent a dime updating his mode of transportation.”
“I was pregnant with my daughter when my mother died. I didn’t know this then. If I had, maybe it would have made a difference.”
