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I simply wrapped my arms around Maxey and held on for dear life.

The Great Gatsby had an awful, detrimental effect on me.

Best part of the day? The part when I come up with an idea for a cartoon.

Love is not something you wait for passively, but a practice.

I don’t own a smartphone and never will. I’ve never sent a text.

Love’s not all that fun, but it saves you. And you should be saved.

One of my stories was rejected by a journal as “theatrical and self-limiting.”

A grin of bitterness swept thereby like an ominous bird a-wing.

If he was going to pick me up, the least he could do was look at me.

Some goals: stop buying jeans. Stop being angry at mom/dad/sister.

Dad was blind until six months ago, when he bumped his head in the fire.

Even then (Colin remembers now), it felt like the end of something.

i stored away in my mama’s empty perfume bottles smells and stories

Insomnia! There is a sickly romance to the affliction—initially.

She had not anticipated that the nightstands would be an issue.

It’s been months, and the fields are good for nothing but night talks.

“Why do we always fight,” he finally said, his voice quiet, resigned.

This is all there is. Nothing else. No heaven and no hell, okay?

The women wanted signs of regret, but she was straight shouldered.

It’s true, I killed my husband. I had my reasons. He was a hunter on the trail.

The Village wasn’t really a village. No walnut trees. Just cut flowers.

The end’s already in motion, the end was starting this whole time.

Xin Bao had gotten drunk and stolen a hyacinth macaw.

The letters combine into words that resurrect the beloved every time.

She’s not the same, her body more naked in its aging, its disorder.

If I had known I would have saved the abacus from the fire.

Having a sister or a friend is like sitting at night in a lighted house.