Roger S. Pressman

“Kate stashed her camera gear in the foyer corner, and rested her back against the locked door, her bad leg throbbing. The smell of last night’s lasagna still lingered in small pools of spicy scent around her. She scanned her home. Too bad she’d fallen for this apartment. High ceilings with ornate moldings. Something out of her dreams. She should have known better. She pushed off. Enough memories. First she dug for an envelope from the box she kept stashed in a kitchen drawer. A final”
― Terri Tiffany, The Bend

“We stared at the vegetation for a moment, and I wondered whether the loss of a wife or child had burned the haggard and bluish look of cholera death into his memory. A few years before I was born, the water from a public pump on Broad Street had killed more than six hundred people, marking the end of London’s last cholera epidemic. A cesspit had been dug too close to the public pump, allowing the disease to spread quickly. As soon as both pump and cesspit were shut down, the epidemic ceased.”
― Annelie Wendeberg, The Devil's Grin

“I’d wait on that if I were you. I think he’s got his hands full for a while.” Sometimes all Daniel could do was sit back and shake his head at the constant ribbing between the two cousins. The situation didn’t matter; one of them was always hounding the other, in a cousinly way, of course.”
― C.G. Cooper, National Burden

“There were times Flora wanted to slap her mother, hard. She went to make toast for everyone, not least to soak up the brandy. The plainclothes police officer who’d been assigned to them was leaning against the breakfast bar, fiddling with her mobile phone. “Would you like me to do that?” she asked, when Flora came in.”
― Elizabeth Haynes, Under a Silent Moon