Hello Beautiful

by Ann Napolitano

William had the strange thought that he might never see his parents again—that they’d only ever had one child, and it wasn’t him.

the professor providing wisdom in a carefully unrolled carpet of words; this girl poked holes in that fabric, as if she didn’t even know it existed.

“It’s just as well, I suppose. I’m smarter than your father by a million miles.”

her mother had eventually accepted and donned marital disappointment the same way she strapped on her ridiculous gardening outfit.

Rose hated to cook, so they took turns battling dinner onto the table.

they were simply trying to cover as much ground as possible before Julia called off the race.

It was because she loved him that Rose had been so disappointed by her marriage and

I don’t think about those things, and it makes me sad to pretend to be something I’m not.

the idea of finding more third doors.

despite her interest in love, weddings made her uncomfortable. They were too showy, too public. Deep love between two people was a private, wordless endeavor,

In a setting where weeping was acceptable, they would take their opportunity.

Neither of us would expect school or work to fill us up. We look out the window, or into ourselves, for something more.”

She wanted to be true to herself with every word she uttered, every action she took, and every belief she held.

Or had she been wanting to be somewhere else for years, and now she saw the chance to break free?

Studying history was about scope, about understanding the terrain that surrounded the critical event. Nothing and no one existed in a vacuum.

The sisters were so close that, in reality, his wife never operated alone; the four Padavano girls shared their lives, celebrating and utilizing one another’s strengths, covering for one another’s weaknesses.

the minutes seemed to fly out the open window, winged with anxiety.

“I didn’t expect”—she paused—“for it to be part of everything, every minute. I didn’t know that you could lose someone, and that meant you lost so much else.”

he’d seen Sylvie’s emotions as if they were drawn all over her body, and that seemed alarmingly intimate,

felt dangerous, like a shining dagger that could cut through his life as if it were made of paper.

She was a cheap bouncy ball in the middle of a gunfight.

She realized, amazed: I love myself. That had somehow never been true before.

Leaves of Grass. Charlie had underlined passages and written in