The Book of Cold Cases

by Simone St. James

But a novel always ends, the lies come to the surface, and the deaths are explained.

She wasn’t anything, which meant she could be anything.

the sweet girl was the one who got eaten. The bitter girl was the one who survived.

There was a lot of talk about the psychological effects of divorce, about the emotions and the heartbreak, but no one ever talked about the things. How you had to go through every item you owned, even in your head, and figure out whether it was really something that was yours or not. How you had to pack your things, move your things, haul your things. Throw out your things.

“I’m sorry,” I said, the phrase we all use when we can’t think of what to say, one that provides no comfort at all.

It’s amazing what you can do when you stop sleepwalking through your own life, isn’t it?”