Pelican Brief p.21, first. In the guarded whispers often heard and languages found, try to remember amazing feats of terror, the ambush of seventeen; suspects, car bombs, mastermind attacks and assassination. Targets are unknown. Attack is certain. "Yes", a nervous woman asked. Angela's Ashes p. 21, last. My father is out but there is nothing in the melted ice floating in water on my parent's bed. Black tea I tell you, when I was a boy. One day, Oh! Big Dog! The Hound of Ulster. This is my story, Dad can't tell. Sigma Protocol p. 21, last. An anachronism in this digitally enhanced way, long burnished Mahogany, head of table, look around. Only days remain before your patience, beyond your wildest dreams, gratifying. One small problem. Blood roared in his stomach, What kind of mind snaps a decade of half twisted memory? Something brackish and metallic. Murder! Mrs. Dalloway p. 21, last. The sentence was finished, something so trifling yet in its fullness, rather emotional. Thoughts of the dead which led to words. ears of girls with pure white surface agitation. Something very profound. The High Mountains Of Portugal p.21, first. A bewildered stare, sure enough a few steps reach the streetlight. Cannot hear but we can watch, smiles, nods, gratitude. The stranger swiveling around, "Ah, but wait!" Glance back, surprised. Careful it's rude to stare, turns his head again, it's too late, he hits it, a bell. The Whisper Man p.21, first. When I was finally standing at the far end, something on the floor, better on the stairs. Everything was black, dirt with smears, bare floor board, possessions like trash always growing darker. It felt like home. Trust Me, I'm Lying p.21, last Like nuts in brownies, into the nearest building, stop me before I get far. Decent cup of espresso? Like a well trained puppy he loves his voice, looks hither and yon, all but whispers. My brain, gauging the mark, I'd like a little more information. Focus! Yes!