I looked silently at her lips. All women are lips, nothing but lips. Some are pink, supple, round-a right, a tender shield against the whole world. And then these: A second ago they didn't exist, and now suddenly, made by a knife, the sweet blood still dripping...
Yevgeny ZamyatinAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist, Writer
- Nationality: russian
- Born: February 1, 1884
- Died: March 10, 1937
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I flipped down the visor so I could check myself in the mirror, and something small and heavy dropped into my lap.
I froze, my breath stuck in my throat. What—?
Gingerly, I looked down. It wasn’t a grenade. It was a key ring. One key was for this van. I looked at it blankly.
“Well, that’ll simplify things,” Fang said.
James Patterson