For over a year now, I've smelled her twat on his fingertips as he slipped into bed next to me. I've watched him ogle himself in the mirror, grooming like a horny baboon for their dates. I've listened...
First thing she said to me once we got our food: I have one daughter. Thirteen years old. Mia. For Mia Hamm. She was born the day we won the World Cup. So, that’s my daughter.
Finger, whore, hollow!
Every morning she’d crick herself down onto the flimsy rug by her bed and pray, but it was actually a promise: Today I won’t yell, I won’t cry, I won’t clench up into a ball like I am waiting for a bl...
Eu esperava por grandes painéis de carvalho, um vidro na porta — com Chefe escrito —, para que os focas pudessem nos ver discutindo a liberdade de imprensa. O escritório de Curry é sem graça e institu...
Es una era difícil en la que ser persona. Simplemente una persona real, auténtica, en vez de una colección de rasgos seleccionados a partir de una interminable galería de personajes. Y si todos interp...
Does anyone do anything profusely except apologize? Sweat, I guess.
Depression to me is urine yellow. Washed out, exhausted miles of weak piss.
DNA to me was some sort of magical element, some glowing goo that was always getting people out of prison
Carl just needed to hear the clink of glasses, the glug of a drink being poured. I picked up the phone, shaking a tumbler of ice near the receiver so Carl could imagine his gin.
But the sight of it actually does something to you, makes you less human. Like watching a rape and saying nothing.
But she did invite me to her house, and women like that don’t invite over women like me unless they want something.
But I was born bent out of shape. I could picture myself coming out of the womb crooked and wrong. It never takes much for me to lose patience. The phrase fuck you may not rest on the tip of my tongue...
But I appreciate a straightforward apology the way a tone-deaf person enjoys a fine piece of music. I can’t do it, but I can applaud it in others.
Another time-honored ploy: A woman is less likely to throw you out if she’s offered her hospitality. If you have allergies or a cold, asking for a tissue is even better. Women love vulnerability. Most...
And then the strangest thought of all clattered drunkenly from the back of my brain to the front and blinded me: If I kill Amy, who will I be?
And before he leans in, he brushes the sugar from my lips so he can taste me.
Amy knew that was what I had loved most about us back when I loved us: not the big moments, not the Romantic with capital-R moments, but our secret inside jokes.
Amma and I were sick just like Marian. It had to be made that obvious to me before I finally understood—nearly twenty years too late.
All the tut-tutters out there will say: She should have just left, bundled up what remained of her dignity. Take the high road! Two wrongs don't make a right! All those things that spineless women say...