Formica is despair in an industrial format.
Feeney stood naked in his cold, plasticized kitchen, finishing a breakfast which consisted of three cups of black coffee. It was a very bad breakfast, but then, Feeney's entire lifestyle was bad for his health. What was he supposed to do about it? He lived alone. He had no friends in that town. He didn't even hang out with Parker's other, down-valley, reporters, Tom Johnson and Greg Stafford, two quiet, hard-working family men. The regular sort. Who had no time for friendship with bachelors, reportorial or otherwise ...
Brilliant, white morning. A sundrenched Saturday.
The sky dazzled cloudless and the silhouettes of douglas firs cut the dawn’s rays from the long yard, but there on his front porch it shined directly.
A morbid mind could form of that an omen, pe...