Sometimes people graduate but they don't leave. They hang around for years, for no reason. I would think of ghosts like that, I decided.

One person's crazy is another person's sane, I guess.

It was almost funny. Life seemed downright accidental in its brevity, and death a punch line to a lousy joke.

A woman who shaves or otherwise depilates her pubic curls has a profound interest in recreational sex.

She introduced herself to my parents with one of her mighty, bunny-crushing handshakes. (I'd never seen Claudia crush a bunny, to be fair, but that's the approximate level of pressure.)

The locker at the end of her bed had no lock, and one of the hinges was busted. She opened it up. There was a thing in it. The thing might have been a sandwich at some point, or an animal, or a human hand...but what it was now was fuzzy and putrid. A minute later, Ginny was down the stairs, out the door, and gone.

She couldn't take her eyes off the boxers. Mostly, she had a view of the back, but he turned halfway when he looked over. She commanded herself not to look at the front flap, which, of course, was exactly what she honed in on. He spit and put his mouth under the tap to get some water. All while just wearing underwear. All while she just stared at the crucial spot of the Action Pants.