Sara Zarr Quote

Is this okay with you, Jenna? For him to stay here?Yeah, I said. It's good. You have no idea what it takes for him to ask for help.I spent all evening in Alan's office, reading at his desk and keeping Cameron company. Mostly he slept, snoring lightly and once in a while murmuring unintelligible something into his pillow. I turned my chair so that I could look at him whenever I wanted, at his face or at the bare foot that stuck out from under the covers, or at his arm dangling off the side of the sofa bed.Around eleven, when I was ready for bed, Cameron woke up. I brought him broth and crackers. Hi, I said.Have you been here all this time?Most of it.Alan's beige pajamas looked small and uncomfortable on Cameron. You don't have to, he said. I can take care of myself. He reached for the broth. I watched him slurp straight from his bowl, everything about him becoming younger and more boyish by the second-rosy lips on the white rim of the bowl, wrists without enough pajama sleeve to cover them, cowlick hair and sleepy eyes. I know you can. But you don't have to.Well... He finally looked at me. Thanks.

Sara Zarr

Is this okay with you, Jenna? For him to stay here?Yeah, I said. It's good. You have no idea what it takes for him to ask for help.I spent all evening in Alan's office, reading at his desk and keeping Cameron company. Mostly he slept, snoring lightly and once in a while murmuring unintelligible something into his pillow. I turned my chair so that I could look at him whenever I wanted, at his face or at the bare foot that stuck out from under the covers, or at his arm dangling off the side of the sofa bed.Around eleven, when I was ready for bed, Cameron woke up. I brought him broth and crackers. Hi, I said.Have you been here all this time?Most of it.Alan's beige pajamas looked small and uncomfortable on Cameron. You don't have to, he said. I can take care of myself. He reached for the broth. I watched him slurp straight from his bowl, everything about him becoming younger and more boyish by the second-rosy lips on the white rim of the bowl, wrists without enough pajama sleeve to cover them, cowlick hair and sleepy eyes. I know you can. But you don't have to.Well... He finally looked at me. Thanks.

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About Sara Zarr

Sara Zarr (born October 3, 1970) is an American writer. She was raised in San Francisco, and now lives in Salt Lake City, Utah with her husband. Her first novel, Story of a Girl, was a 2007 National Book Award finalist. She has subsequently had nine novels published.