He was like a song I'd heard once in fragments but had been singing in my mind ever since.

To grow up at all is to conceal the mass of internal scar tissue that throbs in our dreams.

Jake knew that his mother had a tendency to mistake rules, her rules, for principles. She did not bend because she did not have enough confidence to know when or how far. She did not listen well because one ear was always otherwise engaged - either listening to what she herself had just said or what she would say next.

The walls flickered in the candlelight. The room felt close and warm, like an underground sanctuary.

Written By Barry Eisler

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