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a rare-pitched sound I can still hear, even without my hearing aids.
Her voice is going to be this pitch isn’t it
I stupidly pictured a women’s soccer game being as poorly attended as they were when I was little. From a moral standpoint, I’m glad that I was wrong. For the sake of my ears, I’m cringing.
Why did Willa have to sit on my right side, and why did she have to have a voice that falls in that tiny window of wavelengths that I can still pick up?
I KNEW IT
If I didn’t think it would lead to world devastation, I would hug her for it.
Don’t even give me that attitude and try to deny it—you know you’re not looking for slippers when you open that catalog. You ogle those sexy DILFs in the L.L. Bean men’s section, too.
Willa: very loud LL Bean opinions
The irony is not lost on me, that he’s the first man who’s ever truly made me feel heard in my life and he can’t hear a word I’m saying.
Mr. Rogue Hearing Aid.
but wearing a flannel shirt is like wearing a socially acceptable security blanket. Sue me; I like to be comfortable and comforted.
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That asshole. That infuriating asshole lumberjack is reading to my sick mom and putting Colin Firth to shame.
Even that’s hot. There’s no mercy in this world.
“All right, Joy.” I tug the first chunk of beard away from my face, then drag the scissors through it with an echoing snip. “This one’s for you.”
Owie
“But I’m hungry,” I whine. A granola bar flies over his shoulder and hits me. “Wow.” “I anticipated your hanger, Sutter. Eat and walk. Let’s go.”
I know I’m breathing because I’m still alive, but it doesn’t feel like it.
“You know how I drink my coffee?” “I value my life.”
“Ooh, boy. Hurry up, fellas; he’s already in crisis.”
