You walk to the house. The door blocks you from going farther.
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.
Werewolves, you unscathed bastards, open your eyes and decide who to kill.
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.”
Three-fourths of this feeling comes from starting over with Crystal again. An unusual fourth comes from the house’s wide windows.
Given her dearth of friends, Sadie did worry that her neighbors, mistaking her for a bird, would shoot her down.
What did it take to divert poisonous attention? Beauty. Sinful amounts of it.
Kay had promised Louis that she would stop getting so angry. She agreed with him that it didn’t do any good. But what did?
“We owe it to our children. We have to be able to do hard things. Whatever it takes.”
They do, however, believe in spirits, engkantos, and the bruha.
Social Security sends us checks every month to say sorry about our mom. A thousand sorries for me and a thousand sorries for Vivian, and we accept them all.
They used to launch shuttles from the town, but that was all over now. Space had become derivative and unimportant and old.
The blisters came two summers ago, after college. The biopsy came back inconclusive, so every month I go back to the office for a check-up.
We nibble at the sandwiches and make stilted conversation with one another’s better halves. The managers loom in the corner.
If she could speak, she would tell me she’s glad my reckoning has arrived.
We’re each of us on our third glass of rosé when the Bachelorette sends home the Last Man of Color.
With the baby came trouble, but not any of the kind the mommy blogs warned Ana about.
She was frightened by the lackadaisical way he displayed his violence, the way America trained her students.
Maybe it’s strange that I haven’t acknowledged my ex, but how can I after the nails, which are either about me or not about me, and which is worse?
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