My lover is experiencing reverse evolution.

The writing I tend to think of as 'good' is good because it's mysterious.

I could feel the tears beginning to collect in my throat again, but I pushed them apart, away from each other. Tears are only a threat in groups.

I like birthday cake. It's so symbolic. It's a tempting symbol to load with something more complicated than just 'Happy birthday!' because it's this emblem of childhood and a happy day.

I felt the crumpled paper that had taken the place of my lungs expand as if released from a fist.

and I get refill number three or four and the wine is making my bones loose and it's giving my hair a red sheen and my breasts are blooming and my eyes feel sultry and wise and the dress is water.

I don't think so, I don't agree. The most unbearable thing I think by far, she said, is hope.