The Last House on Needless Street

by Catriona Ward

Those people had looked at all my stuff with their eyes and thoughts and the house didn’t feel like mine anymore.

I judge people two ways—on how they treat animals, and on what they like to eat. If their favorite food is some kind of salad, they are definitely a bad person. Anything with cheese, they are probably OK.

But that’s what love does, it reaches right into you like a hand.

She is like a mother, but one you don’t have to be afraid of.

The gods are closer than you would think. They live among the trees, behind a skin so thin you could scratch it open with a fingernail.