She chose a seat in the back of the bus so as not to draw attention to herself, a girl just shy of sixteen who could have fit the description on any one of a hundred missing person posters: 5 FEET 7 INCHES, BROWN HAIR, BROWN EYES, LAST SEEN WEARING JEANS AND NAVY SWEATSHIRT. A girl with nails bitten to the quick and a silver stud in her nose, an army-green backpack wedged between her grubby sneakers. It contained a change of clothes, forty dollars in crumpled fives and ones, a pack of Winston Lights, and keys to an apartment on Flatbush Avenue, where at that moment a man lay in a pool of blood.
- From Stranger in Paradise by Eileen Goudge
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