Conversation in Hotel Lounge by Lydia Davis
Two women sit together on the sofa in the hotel lounge, bent over and deep in conversation. I am walking through, on my way to my room.
Two women sit together on the sofa in the hotel lounge, bent over and deep in conversation. I am walking through, on my way to my room.
One employee at the Chinese restaurant chops the heads off ducks.
All the terrible things were the same size. They were furred over with dust and seemed to slouch in the heavy sunlight.
When there is a New Sport they find the players to fit: Elongated for basketball; sleek for swimming; flexibly jointed for golf.
John Wayne Gacy buried twenty-three victims in the crawl space of his house. But when Carol Hoff, Gacy’s wife, was asked if she smelled anything, she said Gacy told her the smell was because of mice.