Satan seemed to wink at her. She supposed he would know her soul. She couldn’t remember selling it, least she wasn’t rich, but perhaps it wasn’t worth much.

Justice.” Lizzie twirled a lock of hair around her little finger.

The colour grey is an unemotional colour, neutral, on the fence and neither here, nor there. Tis why old people’s hair turns grey . . . betwixt life and death.

No. They believe we’re dumb animals. And they won’t contradict their bigotry by listening with their own ears.