Ulf Buschmann

“Marjorie did not like the look of them at all. They were going to hassle
her. They were doing it already, just by being there. She didn’t like their
faces, the smiles that were really nothing more than leers. She didn’t like the
close-set eyes, the lean, unshaven cheeks, the wind-burned, sunburned high
foreheads. Even at a glance you could tell they were brothers. They had the
same brutal, inbred faces. Like the houses, like the trees, the people out here
looked stunted, almost stillborn, as if centuries of social immobility had
thinned their seed, bled them dry. She had seen the look in people along the
highway, in the face of the fat woman inside the store. To her eyes, used to
diversity, there was a troubling uniformity about them all, something that
spoke of isolation, and a dull and thoughtless cruelty.”
― Jack Ketchum