G. W. Hawkes
G. W. Hawkes has appeared three times previously in TMR. He is the author of Spies in the Blue Smoke.
Mar 01 1992
Even though the flatness of Kansas is sometimes exaggerated, I’ll admit that it’s level in places. It’s particularly level around Oracle, so flat that the sunlight for a week at the equinoxes skips across town like a thrown rock. Women have to hold their skirts down to keep that light from jumping up. A wariness steals into their eyes, like when the man from the bank drives out, and they grip their handbags more tightly, and the men push their hands down into their trouser pockets in fists.
Jun 01 1991
The Guy Downstairs Blows Sax
Jun 01 1989
I hadn’t seen her in fifteen years and the first thing I said when she sat down was, “Jesus, what’s happened to you?” and the first thing from her was, “Can’t you tell a girl she looks nice?” “You look swell,” I said, “but what happened?” “Marriage.”
Sep 01 1987
“Here,” I said, and set cigar smoke in motion.