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Summary
The troublesome man is hunched over in the corner booth near the back, staring at a tabletop covered in glass bottles and tumblers. Raylan cautiously steps over, but it doesn't take too long to figure out who it is, though he will admit to surprise at the kid’s presence.
Bookmarked by Cleucas
03 Jun 2024
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Surviving is the only war we can afford.
Bookmarked by Cleucas
03 Jun 2024
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We dug coal together.
Bookmarked by Cleucas
02 Jun 2024
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"I sold my mind on the street. I learned another language. It translates easily. Here's how: What I say is not what I mean, nor is it ever what I meant to say. You must not believe me when I say there's nothing left to love in this world."
Bookmarked by Cleucas
02 Jun 2024
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There was something about Boyd, always had been, that made people listen when he spoke, as though there was something to every word of it. Raylan had noticed that pull himself a while back, tried not to let it act on him. Only Boyd had been acting on him since he was a six-year-old's phantom voice or a pair of green eyes spied through a door jam - it wasn't about to stop just because he'd noticed it.
Raylan never does learn to stop listening, never learns to look away.
Bookmarked by Cleucas
02 Jun 2024

