More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
She knew that the smoke wasn’t just a harbinger of a town burning in the distance. It was the town. It was composed of all the trees and the homes that burned, the chemicals from the incinerated plastic, insulation, and paint. It was made up of the people who died, too. I’m breathing them in right now, she thought to herself.
One January afternoon, the volunteers, wearing plastic coveralls over bright orange shirts, helped a young college student sift through the rubble of her home. As they searched, she thought, I hope my dildos didn’t survive. They worked for about two hours, and when they finished she breathed a sigh of relief. They asked her to pray with them, and she wryly thought to herself: I’m still an angel in their eyes.
