“By now Morrissey has circled the lot. Her sedan slows at the stop sign fronting the main road. One of her taillights is cracked, a detail that gives me an unkind flicker of amusement. She lifts her phone and scowls at the screen as she types: driving directions, a takeout food order on an app, maybe a text. The phone remains in her raised hand as she pulls out onto the boulevard, where she guns the engine and shoots away, an angry bullet in the sun.”
Book:Culpability