The Guest

by Emma Cline

Why did being in the ocean make you feel like such a good human?

The fear was already forgotten. No one on the shore noticed her, or looked twice.

someone would have reacted, one of these people would have stepped in to help.

Compared to the city, this was heaven.

Maybe she was imagining it. But maybe not.

Ambitious in the mildest version of the word.

be repeated? It was the polite consensus to return to, the bookend to every conversation—a slogan that united everyone in their shared luck. And who could ever disagree?

Nobody seemed to busy themselves beyond the expected ways: working on their backhand, cooking outdoors, going on a walk before the day got too hot.

certain places made you feel that all problems had solutions.

It was a dead rectangle, useless, but somehow still comforting to palm, slim as a prayer book.

people like Simon hated having to actually say things out loud, preferring subtler poisons.

A vodka soda. It had an ascetic taste, like water gone sick. All the girls had ordered this, the drink of the female martyr.