“He glanced up and down the street. A bus had just stopped at the corner, and for no reason at all he remembered how he had once waited every evening, swinging on this same gate, for the sight of his mother getting off the bus.”
“I’m going to kill you if it’s the last thing I do on earth.′ Something made him glance upwards. Five Fokker triplanes were coming down on him like bolts from the blue.”
“For a long time after we returned to our slow, inefficient method of unpacking the books, I could feel him looking up and watching me, tiny flashes of stolen glances.”