Explore

I live for now in the second house of having asked a favor from a friend.

The gravest season and least understood is more than pale heads

You have your apron on under your coat. We’ve got each other.

The nights she and Wade have sex she can’t do so without feeling guilty.

Dexter was unconsciously dictated to by his winter dreams.

I feel unnatural, half a human face smothered in deep light.

You and the cat wish I were baking pumpkin pie and we were happier.

He begrudged how money poured through her hands like water.

Of course she had known. Nothing in this life escaped her design. Everywhere, people ogled the ring. Everywhere, Emeline posted pictures.

“When we heard the horn, we left—our faces wet—not looking back.”

You’re going to have a difficult life if you can’t figure out where to stand.

At the core, a daughter is a self-reckoning emptiness.

There were so many tired, frayed words thick in the air around her.

Our eyes searched for the island, but ahead there was only overcast.

“Fuck you,” I said, but it was hard to say it with any meaning.

Not the Olympics, the guard said. Just chuck yourself down the tube.

Sweet breath hard breath. Every breath a stone-cold bird in thaw.

Her cheek was like a plum about to burst and you had to close your eyes.

Dr. Zee knows his son is struggling up out of some chemical fog.