He smiles and takes his index finger and presses it to my lips, leaves it there until my heart lands on Jupiter: three seconds, then removes it, and heads back into the living room. Whoa - well, that was either the dorkiest or sexiest moment of my life, and I'm voting for sexy on account of my standing here dumbstruck and giddy, wondering if he did kiss me after all.

How could a mother who boils water for pasta leave two little girls behind?

According to all the experts, it's time for me to talk about what I'm going through... I can't. I'd need a new alphabet, one made of falling, of tectonic plates shifting, of the deep devouring dark.

If bad luck knows who you are, become someone else.

How can the word love, the word life, even fit in the mouth?

The. World. Is. Not. A. Safe. Place.

The guy's life drunk, I think, makes Candide look like a sourpuss. Does he even know that death exists?