When I dream, I dream of him. For several nights now heโs come to me, waving from a distant shore as if heโs been waiting patiently for me to arrive. He doesnโt utter a word, but his smile says everything: Iโve missed you.
Libba BrayCome awake, Tom. Fathers can willfully hurt their children. They can be addicts too weak to give up their vices, no matter the pain it causes. Mothers can turn you invisible with neglect. They can erase you with a denial, a refusal to see. Friends can deceive you. People lie. It is a cold, hard world. I do not blame Nell Hawkins for retreating from it into a madness of her own choosing.
Libba Bray