The sun was a toddler insistently refusing to go to bed: It was past eight thirty and still light.
Hurt tends to drown out sorry.
Margo always loved mysteries. And in everything that came afterward, I could never stop thinking that maybe she loved mysteries so much that she became one.
Waffles are just awesome bread.
Because no one thought she was a person, she had no one to really talk to.
That tastes like hope feels.