I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself

by Marisa Crane

I didn’t understand why something so beautiful had to be compared to family. Why couldn’t it just be its own good thing?

Shame, as I understand it, puts a question mark at the end of every observation.

Had Siegfried known the price of our friendship, I’m afraid he would have grabbed his paint brush and climbed inside our lives all the same. What do you do with a love like that?

“I don’t want to forget,” the kid says. “Remembering is a courageous act.”

Tomorrow is a destination, not a date.

Blood isn’t what bonds people, it’s what traps them.