“Bang on the door for the hack,” the man said. “I got the cruds. There ain’t no more newspaper.”
“Shut up, will you,” the man who had been sleeping in the bunk said.
“I got to shit. I ain’t got no more paper.”
“You kept me awake all night.”
“I told you I got the cruds. It ain’t my fault.”
“Do it through the bars. They’ll bring you some paper.”
Avery closed his eyes and tried to think of Suzanne and the past months. He tried to think of her dressed in the big white Sunday hat and the white dress with the transparent lavender material on her shoulders, and of the times they had been in bed together; but he couldn’t keep the thought of her in his mind, and nothing seemed real to him except the jail and returning to the work camp. He listened to the men arguing in the dark.
James Lee Burke, Half of Paradise
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