She is the womb and the tomb: the sow that eats her farrow.

Then he saw. a few feet aft of the hawsehole, a darker spot on the hull—someone had left a porthole open below the forecastle. in the hold that was the crews' quarters.

He chose a prosperous lottery number that evening.

The two brothers stood over the dead rat […]. “Please, Bigger, take ’im out,” Vera begged. “Aw, don’t be so scary,” Buddy said.