He wondered if she wondered if he were watching her.

I am a cigarette with a body attached to it

A man without hands came to the door to sell me a photograph of my house. Except for the chrome hooks, he was an ordinary-looking man of fifty or so.

There's literary creation and literary business. When I first got something accepted, it gave my life a validation it didn't otherwise have.

In short, everything about his life was different for him at the bottom of that well.

Something’s died in me,” she goes. “It took a long time for it to do it, but it’s dead. You’ve killed something, just like you’d took an axe to it. Everything is dirt now.

He wondered if she wondered if he were watching her.