Subject: Re: HELLO

From: Mallory Hicks <[email-masked]>
Date: Wed, 19 Jul 2006 03:59:31 -0300

His job was writing novels. He banged the carriage-return lever four or five times, centered the carriage, and typed CHAPTER I.

Cute name for a cat, Paul thought. Only her eyes, those tarnished dimes, were fully alive under the shelf of her brow. He reversed out of the pantry, pausing to turn off the light, reminding himself that he must (rinse) put everything back in order as he made his retreat.
"She stared at him, that furious black gaze, and must have seen the truth in his face, because after a moment she slung him contemptuously back in the chair.

He turned, heart hammering, brains squeezing at his temples, and Annie was there, all right, the axe upraised, but only for a second. Blood sheeted down her face.

Likewise, her face seemed encased in a wimple of almost Mohammedan modesty — only her blue eye peered our of the mask of bees which crawled sluggishy over her face, hiding mouth and nose and chin and brows. Now he looked at the floor and on the floor were a number of square cardboard cartons.