0 Comentários
0 Compartilhamentos
43 Visualizações
0 Anterior
Diretório
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Faça Login para curtir, compartilhar e comentar!
-
The Last Supper at Melville ManorThe Last Supper at Melville ManorACT IThe frost had not yet melted from the flagstones of St. Mary's workhouse when Eleanor Price received her invitation. It came on thick cream-colored paper, the kind that cost more than her monthly allowance, delivered by a boy in a livery coat who would not meet her eyes. The letter was brief: a dinner at Melville Manor, November 18th, to honor "honest faces...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 20 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
What's Left of UsWhat's Left of Us Mark found her at 2 a.m. outside the bodega on Atlantic Avenue, barefoot in her pajamas, counting the cracks in the sidewalk. She had an open beer in her hand, a light-colored one from a brand he did not recognize, and she was wearing a long-sleeved top over her pajama top like a jacket, even though it was August and the air was thick enough to chew. Her hair was pulled back...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 12 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Last PromenadeThe Last PromenadeThe fog clung to Manchester like a wet shroud. Arthur Pendelton stood at the factory gate and watched the last steam engine disappear into the grey, carrying the foreman and the promise of wages that would never come. Twelve hundred men walked out with him that afternoon. Twelve hundred men who had spent their lives pulling cotton through iron teeth, now suddenly pulling...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 13 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
THE COLOR OF RISINGTHE COLOR OF RISINGClara Moran married Robert Keller because her mother said a man who paints must have a soul, and a man with a soul would never hurt a woman. It was not the most prudent argument her mother had ever made, but it was the one that convinced her, sitting at the kitchen table in their small Back of the Yards apartment, listening to the sound of the El trains rattling overhead like...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 67 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
RAIN ON THE ASPHALTRAIN ON THE ASPHALTThe rain in Los Angeles does not fall like rain elsewhere. It does not announce itself with thunder or drive downward with the force of divine judgment. It arrives like a secret, soft and insidious, coating the city in a film of grey that makes the palm trees look like ghosts and the neon signs bleed into the wet pavement like watercolors left out in a storm. Veronica Hayes...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 41 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
Random SequenceRandom SequenceChapter OneThe laptop screen reflected Maya Chen's face like a distorted mirror. She could see her own eyes, dark and narrowed in concentration, the crease between her brows that appeared whenever she was close to a solution. The spreadsheet in front of her contained three years of NASDAQ data and a sequence of numbers she'd written in a notebook during high school math...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 57 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Fitzgerald ArrangementThe Fitzgerald Arrangement The champagne flutes had stopped clinking three hours ago, but Diana Vanderbilt II could still hear them in her head—the delicate, crystalline sound of social destruction being served in seven-ounce portions. It had happened in the third act of a party that was already too long, in a room that was already too full, beneath chandeliers that cost more than most people...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 34 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Mirror He BrokeThe Mirror He BrokeVivienne Cross had not spoken to anyone in fourteen hours. She was very good at not speaking. She had spent three years on stage communicating entirely through movement, and four years since then communicating through the absence of it.Her apartment in the West Village was exactly the size of a prison cell and decorated with the same kind of obsessive order. White walls....0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 26 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Red Dog ProtocolThe Red Dog ProtocolACT IThe money was three thousand dollars. That was the number that mattered, the one that Vivian Cross held onto through every question Terry Malone asked her in that sun-baked office with the caged fan and the stack of contracts that smelled like someone else's sweat. Three thousand dollars was six months of rent for her mother's apartment in Boyle Heights. Three thousand...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 57 Visualizações 0 Anterior
English
Arabic
French
Spanish
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek