Sublime

It’s postapocalyptic, motherhood.

was an awful thing that’d happened, the way this hunger had undressed death, and made it common.

Ginny caught herself recoiling in horror, but she forced herself to stay, to draw closer, even. She squeezed the poor woman’s fingers.

Yes, I am bovine, entirely.

nisei

It slipped out of me, exactly in the precise way that my reluctant daughter did not.

“If you’re good, I’ll bring ye back something from America,” he said. “But not if there’s tears.”