But I know all the things you're too sweet to know.

When I am writing anything in general, I just want to tell the story that exists in my head; I don't try to write a parable or make a point.

I figured it out eventually," she says. She's sitting on the edge of the gurney again; her features slowly materialize as my vision clears. "It's momentum." "What?" I whisper. The feeling returning to my lips, spreading out to my fingertips and toes. "Momentum," she repeats. "You can't just stand there if you want something to fly. You have to run.

The madness of youth made me unafraid.

I see an ocean that’s spilled out of a wineglass, its body clear and sparkling and folding over itself. I see a ribbon of sand.

She smiles at our husband as she moves, and he blushes, overcome by her beauty. But I know what her smile really means...Her smile is her revenge.

The sullen boy sitting before me is not my husband, and the girl he is fretting over isn't me, will never be me.