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He pressed his lips to his wife’s forehead and let them linger until the kiss became a conversation between their shared skin. How could his wife’s
and slipped into a contentedness that usually appeared only after the red wine had fallen below the bottle label.
Everyone knew Sonja was destined for great things, but no one knew what to do with her until then.
Life: a constellation of vital phenomena—organization, irritability, movement, growth, reproduction, adaptation.
“I don’t know, Havaa. I’m sorry. I don’t. Maybe we try to find them in other people. In kindness and generosity; those things don’t disappear.”
This person would grow and adapt and live; Sonja would make sure of it. “Your family isn’t your choice,” her father had said, to quell a tantrum, many years earlier, and without wanting to, she kept discovering what he had meant.
the Iowa Writers’ Workshop,

