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61 " He was miles past middle age with a gut that housed ample good meals. A patch of silver hair formed a trail from his forehead to the crown of his head where it dead ended with male pattern baldness. A sea of family photos took up residence on his desk. He sat back in a high-back leather swivel chair. Steepled hands. Robert Last Boots in Cognac Cordovan. Blue collar city worker with prestigious white collar dreams. "
― Brandi L. Bates
62 " So I watch my sadness, gleaming in all of its soft pastel glory. And I listen to the arguments against my sanity. "
63 " On my John Coltrane. In a sentimental mood. "
