Sharp Objects

by Gillian Flynn

It’s one of those crummy towns prone to misery: A bus collision or a twister. An explosion at the silo or a toddler down a well.

How do you keep safe when your whole day is as wide and empty as the sky? Anything could happen.

Every tragedy that happens in the world happens to my mother,

Outside, our section of Missouri sky was, as ever, electric blue. It made my eyes water to even think of it.

myself. A town so suffocating and small, you tripped over people you hated every day. People who knew things about you. It’s the kind of place that leaves a mark.