I Have To Return Some

And Though The Coldness I Have Always Felt Leaves Me, The Numbness Doesn't And Probably Never Will. This Relationship Will Probably Lead To Nothing... This Didn't Change Anything. I Imagine Her Smelling Clean, Like Tea.

What Do You Do?' She Asks, Holding Out The Vest. 'what Do You Do?' 'what Do You Do?' She Asks, Her Voice Shaking. 'don't Ask Me, Please. Okay, Clay?' 'why Not?' She Sits On The Mattress After I Get Up. Muriel Screams. 'because... I Don't Know,' She Sighs. I Look At Her And Don't Feel Anything And Walk Out With My Vest.

It's Because You're Always Fighting Sentiment. You're Fighting Sentimentality All Of The Time Because Being A Mother Alerts You In Such A Primal Way.

Open The Hood Of A Car And It Will Tell You Something About The People Who Designed It, Is Just One Of Many Phrases I’m Tortured By.

Writing Fiction Is An Act Of Imagination And Fantasizing, And It's Not Relating In Prose What You've Been Doing For The Last Two Or Three Years.