“The Jennys were disappointed in each other. Each seemed to be wasting an opportunity the other was sure she would’ve made more of.”
We had stopped above the lion enclosure. As we sat there in hovering captivity, I had to admit that maybe, just maybe, following your gut wasn’t a serviceable philosophy of life.
Being special was pointless if you didn’t use it.
The next time one of Anna’s movies came on she let it play. It was the one she hated least, the one where she played Angry Skater Girl with purple streaks in her hair. Skater Girl, who dared to defy Perfect Blonde Girl, the wickedest witch of all. Only to find her, of course, not so wicked: only lonely and scared, like everybody else.
He’d never known, before, how you could miss something you’d never had, something that was never yours to keep.
Lane arrives in Seed just before dark. The swirling snow now has an urgency to it.
The Holiday Motel is just outside of downtown, off a busy four-lane road wracked with construction. Nothing about it says enjoy a vacation here.
Sadness is a museum of sadness. Happiness has no history.
Mona had fingers like spiders, crawled them over my shoulders. She was braiding my hair when the lights at the carnival went out, left me with a half-finished French braid.
Remember a different meal, like that November Saturday, the details as disquieting and spare as a Hemingway story.