All she could see was his obvious and unmoving deadness.
—January 14, 2012
If the women are falling apart, he thought, I can’t.
—January 9, 2012
Really, both actions meant the same thing: I need something to hold on to.
—January 5, 2012
Valerie figured it was important to her grandmother that she at least have them, like a photo album to remind you of the life you had lived, the things you wore before you got old.
—January 3, 2012
Everyone seemed to know except the baby, who cooed and squirmed happily on the bed while they all sang.
—January 1, 2012
When you’re a good man, and you know you’re a good man, you don’t ask permission. You just do the things you know are good.
—December 31, 2011
But he kept breathing through the hymn and the end of the CD, and was still breathing when they finally left for the night.
—December 30, 2011
She was fed, given a glass of orange juice, and challenged to a game of cards with Grandpa.
—December 27, 2011
Molly wondered if her mother’s new stillness was a way to keep a fragile tower from crumbling, or maybe a vase that had already been broken and put back together.
—December 28, 2011
He knew she’d never cry unless they were alone.
—December 26, 2011
