Jul 30, 2021
The Moon and What You Get Back
She tells me our tip percentage is all about our mindset, even though people don’t tip well at brunch.
She tells me our tip percentage is all about our mindset, even though people don’t tip well at brunch.
Melinda’s violation of their agreement—to stay the same for each other, forever—was so profound that she split their shared sphere in two.
My mind drifted to the almost-lycanthropic being I’d imagined her becoming, half wolf, half researcher, neither coming back to me, dead or alive.
Had we been diverse enough? Had we changed hearts, minds, and souls? Had we been . . . truthful?
It was during my third year of teaching the saints at Holy Trinity that the burning began.
If there were any justice in the world, I would have been born a wolf. Instead, I’m a seventh grader.
"Something in the hole grabs back. Something that doesn’t give up. Something with fingers and nails just like mine."
Lori was in real, actual danger, but it was easy to convince herself she was not.
As the dentist works, her giant belly touches my arm and my head, and I think the baby kicks me.
The family in my novel is like this arowana. Born to hurt things. They are hunters, even when there is nothing left to hunt.
La-la land, she called it, that place her daughter went that she would never go.
My mother isn’t dead. I know this the way I know that squares are also rectangles, and that the sun is also a star.
On the anniversary of his death, I put a stem of jasmine in a glass vase on the windowsill. The flower’s fragrance a bridge between this world and the next.
They were lucky for the brilliant output of the world’s brilliant minds, for so many chances to consume it. Lucky to live in an age of plenty, of pleasure.
He never imagined himself holding a placard, waving a fist. But this, this he could do. People needed to be fed.
An old man walking by says, “When you laugh at someone’s pain, you’re dying inside,” and the model calls back, “No one’s in pain here, grandpa.”
