More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
but a little junk food makes me happy. Doesn’t everyone deserve a little happiness?
She’s pretty. Or maybe she’s pretty astute
There is so much I don’t understand about myself, even as a thirty-two-year-old woman.
I approach the screen door, wary of inviting her inside. Yet drawn like a fly to rancid meat.
maybe, at a certain point and intensity, love and hate in a relationship become blurred when extremes are at hand.
A fountain beside the entrance makes a gurgling sound like a waterfall or someone dying, choking on their own blood.
begging with the last representative of my immediate family to choose me instead of themselves—instead of anything that takes them away from me, even death. As illogical as that is.
This cherub with full cheeks and whose warm gaze could make a seasoned killer offer up his final meal on death row.
a nagging suspicion in me pokes its head up: school isn’t the answer. Not mine anyway. It was always someone else’s expectation that I’ve been trying to meet. Trying and failing.
We work our way through the thick tunnel of trees, leftover morning dew soaking the shoulders of my jacket, leaving sloppy, wet kisses on my neck beneath my ponytail.

