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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.

The solution, she’s discovered, is always to err on the side of caution.

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

It’s a small deposit, but I’m putting my faith in reincarnation.

In the story she was a dripping, chocolate-covered vamp.

You’re certain that they’re harmless, benign as a flock of founding fathers.

Take my hand, lead me by heart over the blind stepping-stones to the edge.

Protect your hands. You can always get by if your hands aren’t broken.

If dating taught Cory anything, it was that he needed an ex-wife.

Marie was Indian, and everything Indian required patience.

Children can be seen as worldly things, not as souls with broken mirrors.

I want him to remember me hanging on his crosshairs.