To Those Who Will See, The World

I Know Because I Read. Might I Suggest You Try It?

For Once, Evie Didn’t Know What To Say. She Hadn’t Really Thought Of Her Uncle As Very Human. He Was More Like A Textbook Who Occasionally Remembered To Put On A Tie. But It Was Clear That He Was, Indeed, Human, With A Deep Wound Named Rotke.

Harold Brodie Is A Louse And A Lothario Who Cheats At Cards And Has A Different Girl In His Rumble Seat Every Week. That Coupe Of His Is Pos-i-tute-ly A Petting Palace. And He’s A Terrible Kisser To Boot.” Evie’s Parents Stared In Stunned Silence. “or So I’ve Heard.

He Took Comfort In The Neon Signs, The Wild Strands Of Jazz Creeping Out Of Clubs Whenever Happy Swells Of People Pushed Through The Doors In Their Finery.

I Changed My Mind. I Don’t Want To Be An Inveshtigative Journalist Anymore. I Want To Be A Professional Rum Drinker.” “there Are People Who Do That,” Duff Said. He’d Barely Sipped His Rum. “really? What Do You Call Them?” “alcoholics.