It had barely registered, the lament was so commonplace. But I felt it now.
Instead, she’d let it get even more overgrown and cobwebbed. We’d always joked that it would be a good place to bury a body. It couldn’t be.
In Amma’s snideness, I caught a whiff of desperation and righteousness. Like she’d whined at breakfast: I wish I’d be murdered. Amma didn’t want anyone to get more attention than her. Certainly not gi...
Imagine the awful satisfaction, to know that all those years of worry had paid off.
If you’re always early, you’re never late.
If you’re about to do something, and you want to know if it’s a bad idea, imagine seeing it printed in the paper for all the world to see.
I'm here, I said, and it felt shockingly comforting, those words. When I'm panicked, I say them aloud to myself. I'm here. I don't usually feel that I am. I feel like a warm gust of wind could exhale...
I won't blame Nick. I don't blame Nick. I refuse - refuse! - to turn into some pert-mouthed, strident angry-girl. I made two promises to myself when I married Nick. One: no dancing-monkey demands. Two...
I was the embodiment of every writer's worst fear: a cliché.
I was rotten.
I was raised feral, and I mostly stayed that way. I
I was not that man: I didn’t hate and fear all women. I was a one-woman misogynist. If I despised only Amy, focused all my fury and rage and venom on the one woman who deserved it, that didn’t make me...
I want to know more about true, complete people, not dirty scraps of humans.
I understand now why so many horror movies use that device—the mysterious knock on the door—because it has the weight of a nightmare. You don’t know what’s out there, yet you know you’ll open it. You’...
I thought a lot about killing myself—it’s a hobby today,
I suppose these questions stormcloud over every marriage: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? Who are you> What have we done to each other? What will we do?
I really hope you like this, he says again, and flings open the door. It's a glass room, a greenhouse, I realize. Within are tulips, hundreds, of all colors. Tulips bloom in the middle of July in Desi...
I paced a bit, tried to remember how to breathe right, how to calm my skin. But it blared at me. Sometimes my scars have a mind of their own.
I never worked holidays, because holiday hand jobs are sad for everyone.
I never knew I was capable of being ridiculous over a man.