I write characters that are ultimately flawed. Individual morality motivates character action. They all have a different view of right and wrong. Regardless of the setting, location, period, or gender, everybody has their own moral compass.

You ever get the feeling all hell’s about to break loose and there’s nothing you can do about it?

I cadged a complimentary green matchbook with a gold bird icon from the Bell canning jar. Later we'd use the matches to light our spliffs. My fingertips tapped the stem to the gizmo that dinged a bell. Nobody came out. Wrong signal, so I did two bell rings. No response prompted me to tap out a series of bell rings.

I kissed her, a long hard kiss. Because baby didn't know it, but baby was dead, and in a way I couldn't have loved her more.

We are going to hell together. But we're coming back alive. Don't forget that.

Every single time it was grand. I loved the moment when you announce the stickup and everything suddenly goes brighter and sharper and the world seems to spin faster. You show them the gun and say hand it over and there's no telling what's going to happen in the next tick of the clock.