Free the snow globes!

Does my new feminism make me look fat?

But what was the point of living so quietly you made no noise at all?

We don't look at each other anymore. Not really. Not since I pulled him from that opium den. Now when I look at him, I see the addict. And when he looks at me, he sees what he would rather not remember. I wish I could be his adored little girl again, sitting at his side.

I've heard it said that God is in the details. It's the same with the truth. Leave out the details, the crucial heart, and you can damn someone with the bare bones of it.

She wished she were as inconsequential as the ghosts in her dreams.

She knew what it was to wait for someone who would never come home. She knew that grief, like a scar, faded but never really went away.