Time for a sample of what I’m working on! Part of the book from the 45 page mark.
I don’t know who “they” are, but they’re usually right. They say you come into this word screaming and crying and covered in blood, and that you should hope never to go out like that. My eyes dart open and adjust to a bright light. Someone is slapping my face. I shake my head, swat the flashlight out of my eyes, and stand up. Raffir Tin is standing over me with Ed next to him. I’m covered in dust. I must have passed out in a pile of trash. I wonder if you can die from narcolepsy.
“Sarge Iron has been calling you for an hour.” Tin says.
I check my phone, twenty missed calls. All from the same number.
“He’s pretty pissed, I won’t lie.”
The lights are still very dim. I ask Ed how long ago I left his store.
Not long apparently.
Sounds of creaking from all around.
Raffir Tin wears a big beard, but he’s always combing it, and now it looks like he tapped whatever silky hair was left from his head onto his face. We’ve all got our nervous ticks. Tin combs, Ed bites his nails, Gregg Copper scratches his head, and Roger has sex. I don’t know if you could consider that a tick, but he does it a lot, and apparently he does it very well because even the hookers come back for more. He usually arrests them when they step into the police station.
Me? I don’t know. Apparently I loose sleep. I don’t know if it helps, because I feel so effing paranoid all the time. Roger tells me to be grateful for my wife. He says I’m lucky to have her because most of the women who go for my signature five o’clock shadow, drooling, sniffling, dizzy look are the one’s who’ve got it too.
I.. uh. I’m not much into that.