The next time a car appeared down Market Street, I stepped right out into the road, waving my arms over my head, shouting.
The first vehicle that screamed past -- an ambulance -- didn't even slow down.
You freeze where you are, time stops, and your heart thunders in your ears.
The car rocked back and forth and tipped uphill.
We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give.
I don't mind what language an opera is sung in so long as it is a language I don't understand.
It was a military-looking Jeep, like an armored Hummer, only it didn't have any military insignia on it.