sharrow

Sharrow made a show of looking her half sister up and down.

He reached down, put his hand on Sharrow's head for a moment.

Sharrow looked as if she were trying to control herself, then suddenly sat forward again.

I had to see you, Sharrow; it's more important than some phone call.

Sharrow stood by the glass wall, a drink in her hand, looking out.

Sharrow said, coming back into the private room they'd hired and sitting down at the table.

Sharrow made a last attempt to raise her hand, then gave up.

He glanced at Sharrow, but she didn't seem to have heard.

Sharrow turned to face the door and pointed the gun at it.

Perfectly; but then what have you got to lose, Sharrow?

Sharrow shook her head and dropped the other woman's arm.

Sharrow grinned and sat on a small chair by the glass wall.

Sharrow could have sworn he had a great big smile on his face.

Sharrow looked out of the window at the drifting dust.

Sharrow heard what might have been a hand slapping stone.

Sharrow looked around the wide, white room, her eyes narrowing.

Sharrow said nothing; she kept walking along the beach, staring down.

Sharrow looked up as something moved above her on the monorail.

Sharrow lay there for another ten minutes, not daring to move.

Sharrow felt the fingers in her own left hand start to ache.

Sharrow dug under her seat, threw them over to him.

Sharrow had never seen him look so old and careworn.

Sharrow took hold of his hand, talking into the transceiver.

He still felt ill after watching what they'd done to Sharrow's infected hand.

They stopped for a moment and Sharrow got down from the android's arms.