Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Red Wind --Raymond Chandler

It was one of those hot, dry, Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that, every booze party ends in a fight. Meek, little housewives feel the edge of the carving knives and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen.

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