“For lunches he rode the elevator to the fourth-floor food court and ate Thai Town or Subway at a table tucked among potted tropicals, gazing past milling teenagers to the little penny-choked fountain where a copper salmon spat water into a chlorinated pool.”
“Let's face it, the gene pool needs a little chlorine.”
“The first time I read the ad, I choked and cursed and spat and threw the paper to the floor.”
“Isabel turns down Oak toward the little vintage shop at Fourth Avenue, thinking of lunch—the Chinese place in Old Town, casting around inside herself for hunger, imagining the tastes of things.”
“Do we have any chlorine? It seems to be kind of explosive when mixed with other stuff.""Like what, your socks? No, we don't have chlorine. No swimming pool.”
“Stranded in this mill town railroad yard while the whole world was converging elsewhere, we seemed to be nothing but children playing among heroic men.”