I kept waiting for that loneliness and nervousness to make me want to go back. But it never did.

I told Augustus the broad outline of my miracle: diagnosed with Stage IV thyroid cancer when I was thirteen. (I didn’t tell him that the diagnosis came three months after I got my first period. Like: Congratulations! You’re a woman. Now die.)

But that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail

Your friendship with her-it sleeps with the fishes.

I don't suppose I can wear the flamingo tie," he said as he pulled on black socks. "It's a bit festive, given the occasion," I responded. "Can't wear it to the opera," said the Colonel, almost smiling. "Can't wear it to a funeral. Can't use it to hang myself. It's a bit useless, as ties go." I gave him a tie.

I was born into Bolívar's labyrinth, and so I must believe in the hope of Rabelais' Great Perhaps.

But my miracle was different. My miracle was this: out of all the houses in all the subdivisions in all of Florida, I ended up living next door to Margo Roth Spiegelman.