My Soul to Keep (African Immortals, #1)

by Tananarive Due

He cannot doubt what he must do. “Rest, Rosalie.” He can barely hear the parting whisper from her tattered larynx. “Goodbye, Daddy,” she says.

That’s so scary

he sounded all-American bourgeois Negro, just like her.

Dogs were entertainers; cats, philosophers.

Again, she’d hoped to make something better by just ignoring it, hoping it would fix itself. She did it when her car made unfamiliar noises, when she got phone messages she didn’t want to face,

Relatable