The Crane Husband

by Kelly Barnhill

But his eyes—hard and black and keen, and so shiny it almost hurt to look at them—didn’t peer through the spectacles at all. I had a suspicion that they were just for show.

all assholes wear fake glasses

She said it was a sin to butcher an animal that you didn’t love first. And it was true. She loved the sheep. And they loved her back. “It’s a sad fact about true love,” my mother told me once. “The sheep love me without ceasing, and that is why I am able to cause them pain—love is the path of least resistance, you see? It’s a lot more work to cause harm to someone who mistrusts you, or fears you. Or hates you. Love opens the city gates wide, and allows all manner of horrors right inside. This is why they don’t flinch when I come at them with something unpleasant.” She paused for a moment. She took my hand between both of hers and her face became grave. “It’s the same thing with us. You’ll understand this when you’re older. You’ll learn that you’re safest around the people you mistrust and dislike. Your guard is up, you see? The more you love someone, the more dangerous to you they become. The more you love someone, the more willing you are to show them your throat.” At the time, I thought this was wise. I think differently now.

why i wanna highlight the whole page