Fish In A Tree

by Lynda Mullaly Hunt

My mind does this all the time—shows me these movies that seem so real that they carry me away inside of them. They are a relief from my real life.

“logically, if a person was to pull another down, it would mean that he or she is already below that person.”

had never imagined that his car would be our car. That he would take me places. “You want to take it out with me now?” “Sure. Am I pushing or pulling?” “You’re going to be sorry you dissed this beauty. I’m telling you. You’ve got to be loyal to your car.”

“They can call me anything they want. And believe me, they do. But they can’t say anything about Travis. Never.”

“Is Travis your older brother?” “He’s my big brother.” He half smiles. “Is there a difference?” “Yeah. There is. An older brother is older. A big brother looks out for you and smiles when you walk into a room.”

I hate that I never know what to say to her. I come up with great comebacks to her the next morning, hunched over a bowl of cereal.

You can feel lonely when you’re alone, but the worst kind of lonely is when you’re in a room full of people, but you’re still alone.