None of the wives mention the security guards by the door, who will probably tackle us to the ground if we try to leave without our husbands.

Don't you miss it?" I say. "Being free." He laughs.

Love is not enough to keep any of us alive.

His three wives are huddled together on the bare mattress, one of them dying; when we're together, we form an alliance he can't touch. He's scared to even try.

She has the majesty of hurricanes and explosions.

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.

It's never right to give up on someone.