I will never be old. I will never be sad. I’d scarf a cyanide capsule first. Life isn’t worth living unless you are young and surrounded by other young people in a beautiful cold garden perfumed by dirt and flowers and fallen leaves, gleaming in the string of lights, listening to the quiet city on t…
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Fates and Furies: A Novel
A thick drizzle from the sky, like a curtain’s sudden sweeping.
It comes over us that we shall never again hear the laughter of our friend, that this garden is forever locked against us. And at that moment begins our true grief.
Outside, snow had fallen thigh-deep in the night. Something was deeply soothing about so much untouched white.
She didn’t tell him that she never minded being the breadwinner during the long span of their twenties. She did mind something she never said aloud: she’d wished her husband were better at what he chose to do. All of that standing in line in the rain. Going in only to perform a monologue. Home again…
Barely time to register the staggering beauty, and here it is. The separation.
The sky was all a strange boil, purplish black. Costume designers would stab their competitors to get their mitts on such a hue. Wearing it, one would walk onstage already great with authority, Lear or Othello before a syllable was spoken.
Oh, for the god of love, where did time go? Clockwise swirl going nowhere.
Lotto’s heart kicked froglike in his chest; sweeping toward him in her brilliant blue skirt, Mathilde. His azure lion rampant. Her long hair plaited down her left breast, she, the nexus of all the good of this world.
There is little that a puppy won’t fix, even if the fix is for a short time.
I will never be old. I’d scarf a cyanide capsule first. Life isn’t worth living unless you are young and surrounded by other young people in a beautiful cold garden perfumed by dirt and flowers and fallen leaves, gleaming in the string of lights, listening to the quiet city on the last fine night of…
He looked at her thoughtfully, gently bit the tip of her nose. He had loved her with all his might these two weeks and, in so loving, had considered her transparent, a plate of glass. He could see through to the goodness at her quick. But glass is fragile, he would have to be careful.