Snippet

From Novel #2 in progress, tentatively titled, “Heathens, Blood and Stone”

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Mirror’s head tilted, and she leaned to the side.

The person was slouched down on the train seat, but the black sweatshirt was so non-forming that the resulting bagginess left the distinct impression of a curve deeply slouched onto the seat. The knees were no different; the bagginess of the jeans, this shade of navy, left no distinct impression of a knee, it was just part of the curve occurring at that region as well. In fact, there were no distinct impressions of body parts at all; not even a distinct shoulder, even though the person’s hooded head leaned on the pane bordering the train’s doorway. No hands, even, buried into the bagginess of the too-short pants- did they even come up to the guy’s waist?

“What are you doing?” Nancy asked.

“Trying to see if this guy’s made of bone.”

A snicker skipped out of Nancy. “He is kinda like a spaghetti trying to sit on a chair, isn’t he?”

“Can you see his face?” Mirror asked.

The front of a cap protruded from the sweatshirt’s hood, but that was all that could be seen.

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