First Lines, 07/08/18
First lines of the novel I am unable to write today:
"Steam rose from the pavement in Echo Park, outside of El Chubasco. It was the sixth day of a heatwave, but that Sunday afternoon's clouds had finally delivered on their promise.
It didn't do much to cool things off, but brought with it the hope of cooler days. Ariana and Sonny stepped out of El Paisano into the stickiness of the evening, looking north, then south — taking in the emptiness of Sunset Blvd.
In the distance, the Dodgers were starting the sixth inning after a long rain delay. Occasionally, the wind carried the sounds of the crowd over the relatively empty streets of the neighborhood, carrying Sonny back to his childhood.
He had been clean since April, but that old, familiar temptation came knocking frequently. Most of the time, he kept that to himself."
— Damien Willis
July 8, 2018