Excerpt of Black and Blue by Anna Quindlen
(Page 9 of 9)
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Frannie, Frannie, Fran. I heard his voice saying my name, like the ringing in my ears when
he brought his open hand hard against the side of my head in a dark corner of the club
foyer, that time I argued with him in front of his friends about whether we were staying
for another round of beers at a retirement party. Fran. I can hear his voice in the sound
of the train moving south down the tracks. I'm coming, Frannie.
You can't get away. You're mine, Fran. Both of you.
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Copyright© 1998 by Anna Quindlen. All rights reserved.