Penelope in Retrograde

by Brooke Abrams

They’re just so radically different from me that whenever we spend time together, we always end up turning into the worst versions of ourselves.

And I know it’s me. I’m the problem.

Those smut witches are the best humans on the planet, and I am simply not worthy of their friendship.

“Happiness isn’t a place you go back to. Happiness is a place you build and rebuild and then tear down and remodel a thousand times over inside you.”

“Write down your dreams, hopes, and desires on a slip of paper, and burn them. My mother used to call it writing love letters to the universe. Set your intentions and trust yourself to follow through.”

“One more thing. Smoky quartz for good travels and protection.”

“I’m writing a love letter.” “To who?” “To my longest-standing obsession.” I point out the window of Martin’s Airstream to the barely visible crescent. “To the new moon.” “I thought the new moon was yesterday?” “She’s OK if you show up a little late.”