All the Ugly and Wonderful Things

by Bryn Greenwood

If you ever consider playing Good Samaritan to a pregnant woman, think about cleaning that up.

“I’m so alone,” she said. Donal and I didn’t count.

The recipe had Grandma’s fingerprints stained in hamburger blood.

Like I was her horse, and she was a cowgirl trying to make a quick escape from some hostile Indians. Except that I was the Indian and we were both trying to escape from hostile saloon girls. It made better sense if I didn’t think about it too hard, but it made me giggle.

That’s the problem with the Christmas story: most of the roles are for boys. The only girl is there because men can’t have babies.

All the ugly and wonderful things people had done in the last two thousand years.

I could have told him there was no sense in rushing toward being dead. It would find you soon enough, and before it did there were pleasures to make your heart hurt less.

The difference between a meteor falling through the atmosphere and a meteorite lying in the dirt.

Grandma didn’t take up any more room in my heart than a floor takes up space in a house.