No matter how far you run, you always ended up back where you started.
No amount of flowers or pretty compliments could ever measure up to a man who did housework.
Nancy’s last sentence is on the last page in your file. There is nothing more we know. As the sheriff might say, we don’t have anything farther.
My court-appointed therapist would say I was trying to fill a hole. Is that what you call your vagina? Claire chuckled under her breath.
Marriage. That’s what he called it, though men like Paul do not marry women. They own them. They control them. They are voracious gluttons who devour every part of a woman, then clean their teeth with...
It’s very important for your life to have meaning. Even on the days it makes you unhappy, you still need a purpose.
It was odd how you could love something so much, but forget about it when it wasn’t right under your nose.
His words hung between them, and Faith tried to pin down when exactly their relationship had gone from cooly professional to personal. There was something so kind about him under his awkward manners a...
Her capacity for detail was astounding, if not highly annoying during arguments.
Her birthday was yesterday, August twentieth. Why had Laura said that she was born in January? 6 Andy drove up and down what seemed like the city of Carrollton’s main drag.
Flowers in the Attic
Dogs are stupid, Rusty said. This is a known fact. But a cat—you have to earn a cat’s respect every single day of your life. You lose it and— He snapped his fingers. That’s what your mama was to me. S...
Claire took a stuttered breath. She couldn’t stand the soft, reassuring tone of his voice. There was still an infinitesimal part of her that wanted her husband to somehow make it all better.
Charlie’s affable countenance stood in direct opposition to their mother’s line. Her face, even with the bruises, was clearly still beautiful. She had always been so clever in the way that made people...
Broken:Never underestimate the power of a shared history.
Popcorn-textured ceiling. What was
You gotta go through a special kind of hell or a special
Yeah? I miss the way you taste. She tried to sound bored. It’s still Colgate. That’s not the taste I was talking about.
When your father died, I remember standing at his grave and thinking, This is the place where I can leave my grief. It wasn't immediately, of course, but I had somewhere to go, and every time I visite...
This seemed to be how dads taught their boys to be men, but there had to be a point, maybe early on, when they were able to hold their hands. One tiny one engulfed by one big one.