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I was opposed to the taking of human life. I was opposed to all war.

Best-selling author Melanie Gideon reads from her novel Wife 22.

The light is like a benediction. My husband reaches for my hand.

Dad is catnip to the lady residents. He’s tall and lean, plus he’s got all his hair.

I feel unnatural, half a human face smothered in deep light.

He begrudged how money poured through her hands like water.

“When we heard the horn, we left—our faces wet—not looking back.”

He never stopped reminding me that I was born in Harmony, Georgia.

The world smells brand-new crisp the way an ax cuts fire wood.

A rumour went round that the Australians had bulletproof clothing.

Our eyes searched for the island, but ahead there was only overcast.

Not the Olympics, the guard said. Just chuck yourself down the tube.

Her cheek was like a plum about to burst and you had to close your eyes.

She was painting a bedroom, trying to be a good mother, wife, Catholic.

“O youth! The strength of it, the faith of it, the imagination of it!”