In the custom of mourning, the fabric of the night had been ripped, revealing a star at each tiny tear.
When I'm with you, bells go off in my head like a moving truck that's backing up.
Then Henry speaks again. "Did he do it?" I turn to him slowly. "Does it matter?
When youโre hurting deeply, you go inward.
I would figure out, later, how to explain to my boss that, for me, Delia will never be a story, but a happy ending.
I'm the kind of person you want to kill. I had an incredibly happy childhood. I married a terrific guy when I was 23. I have great, well-adjusted kids. Sometimes my husband and I look at each other and do a little jig in the kitchen. This is the best life.