“Just these,” Nina replied, holding up a fist full of balsa wood chopsticks. “That’s okay,” Walter said, tipping the box to his lips like a cup and slurping up the noodles.” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything to eat.” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“You hear it, too?” Walter asked. “Of course I do,” she snapped. “It’s real!” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“Okay,” Nina said. “We’re all thinking it, but I’m going to say it. That was really, really stupid. If I hadn’t brought my gun,… — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“His mind immediately seized on this metaphor and when he looked down at his wet hands he saw that they had taken on the… — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“It’s me,” the old man hollered, his voice shrill and cracking. The suddenness of it caused Walter to pull his hand back involuntarily. “Me!… — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“Not that I regret my previous choice. It’s only that the anticipation of killing has me feeling particularly appreciative of youth.” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“In my dream I can,” he said. “In my dream, I have hands. With claws.” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“But, could he truly call himself a scientist if he were to pass up such a unique opportunity?” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“Walter took the killer’s notebook from his pocket and was about to open it when Nina gave him a sternly arched eyebrow and a… — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“Nina,” Walter said as she handed him one of the warm boxes. “You are my angel.” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“It’s not real. The image of his creepy ant-hands was nothing more than a standard, slightly silly hallucination.” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
