I ran into Linda, unexpectedly, the other day at Publix. She used to be pretty, but in her late forties, she’s all bloat, veneers, and Oxy eyes . . .
“Man gon’ fry out there,” Kinfolk said. He sipped from the tall boy of Hurricane and passed it to Sam . . .
Soaking rain had stopped, typical of an August afternoon. It hadn’t cooled things off, only made the air more steamy and humid . . .
To celebrate the release of Suitcase City, we’re pleased to feature a statement from author Sterling Watson reflecting on how people have received his latest novel.
He blew into town on a Greyhound from Cleveland. His name was Christopher McKendrick—at least that’s what his license said. He couldn’t wait to get to the beach. If he was caught, he’d snatch a little piece of heaven first . . .
“I don’t care what it costs, I want that man dead . . .”
With the full moon there’d be a strong tide to pull the shrimp from the warm lagoons to their spawning ground in the Atlantic. It seemed like all of God’s creatures needed love and were willing to risk everything for it . . .