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He was caught. Of course he was caught. He was always caught.

The mountains out your window make Central Park feel rinky-dink.

What is greater: the distance between these bodies, or their need?

He could not stop marveling at the velvet quality of
her skin.

The palm’s outline shimmied in the sunlight against the aqua curtain.

I saw the man for the first time in Budapest on the Széchenyi Bridge.

I’m not the girl for anyone. I can’t just go be a wife.

Eliza Frye

What’s wrong with easy? I mean, who wants sex to be hard work?

After seventeen years we’re parting ways. Breakups hurt, even this one.

We work to house the water yet know we cannot keep anything.

She pictures her suitcase covered in blood, wishing for anything to happen.

Any white man without a servant was presumed to be in need of help.

When the thugs from the bank showed, up my father laughed.

We were aiming for a complete transformation of society.

I could feel the floor’s slight pitch. We were in for a long, long voyage.

He doesn’t have to lie about oatmeal. That’s the way things are for him.

“We must also buy twenty acres or so. Life is becoming impossible.”

He begins to realize that the impossible event may well be about to occur.

Claim to be Choctaw or Cherokee. Claim to be a princess too.

“I know I am disabled. Technically. But I don’t feel that way.”

You are the only one who knows not to pour water on the flame.

Wake up drenched in sweat, with fatigue that reaches to your marrow.

Ask your mother about babies. Ask her about the baby that died.

Lily hated Ray’s cancer. She couldn’t see it or cure it.

Hurricane Ian was bearing down on us. Jack wanted to stay and ride it out. I was passed out on the floor, the TV on, when Ian made landfall.

We agreed: no hearts, no flowers, just courteous, no-strings sex.

It had always been this way. Mothering, for my mother, was a cameo role.

I was free. The first step had been taken, and it was irrevocable.