He had never been a social man. He had shunned causes with contempt and disgust. They were for pig-simple suckers and people with too much time and money on their hands
He removed his unvaluable valuables and dumped his shirt, pants, and skivvies into a letter slot.
In the year 2025, the best men don't run for president, they run for their lives. . . .
He understood well enough how a man with a choice between pride and responsibility will almost always choose pride--if responsibility robs him of his manhood.
Outside, daylight was bleeding slowly toward dusk.
The woman had looked into the abyss and then walked out across it.
Valuables. That was a hot one, Richards thought, unbuttoning his shirt. He had an empty wallet with a few pictures of Sheila and Cathy, a receipt for a shoe sole he had replaced at the local cobbler's six months ago, a keyring with no keys on it exce...
