“He felt more soft raindrops, saw bright-red oil against the brown mud, heard his mother calling again, but it was unclear what she was saying, was she calling him home or was it the sea? There was a world and… — Richard Flanagan Copy Share Image
“Have you tried calling her?” Daryl asked, easing the tension around us only slightly. “No,” I answered, shaking my head. “Only texts.” “What the fuck is with your generation? A phone is for talking. You know, with your voice? You… — K.M. Scott Copy Share Image
