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She felt along the solid green marble of the day for the hairline crack that might let her out. This could not be forced.
and in the south of the sky there was a tender spot, where a rainbow wanted to happen. Then three sips of coffee, and a window opened.
It was a mistake to believe that other people were not living as deeply as you were. Besides, you were not even living that deeply.
In remembrance of those we lost on 9/11 the hotel will provide complimentary coffee and mini muffins from 8:45–9:15 am
“I have a theory,” she said to the crowd, and then paused, for somewhere she thought she heard someone groan. She tried to resume, but couldn’t recall what she was going to say—something about being a woman in our time.
the purple part of night,
where she would drink espresso until there was a free and frightening exchange between her and the day—she was open, flung open, anything could rush in.
