Crafting Persona: The Art of Omission

By Jill Talbot

Some moments won’t ever come around again. In March of 1997, Hale-Bopp made its closest approach to Earth, and by the first week of April, the comet—at its brightest—held in the sky as if suspended. Late one night that week, I stepped out of my car on the shoulder of a highway, while my best friend, T., scrambled for her gun, tucked beneath the passenger seat. We were both a few months from turning twenty-seven, forever in khaki shorts and flannel shirts, stranded by a flat ...