Grief, He Said, Is Carnivorous.

It's Very Simple. If You Learn How To Write Well, To Write With Depth, Cream Will Rise To The Top. You'll Get Published. But, There Is No Secret.

We Were Supposed To Grow Old Together, Dolores. Have Kids. Take Walks Under Old Trees. I Wanted To Watch The Lines Etch Themselves Into Your Flesh And Know When Each And Every One Of Them Appeared. Die Together.

Grief, He Said, Is Carnivorous.

It Had Occurred To Sean Once - On A Bender About Ten Years Before With Some Buddies, Sean And A Bloodstream Full Of Bourbon Turning Philosophical - That Maybe They Had Gotten In That Car. All Three Of Them. And What They Now Thought Of As Their Life Was Just A Dream State. That All Three Of Them Were, In Reality, Still Eleven-year-old Boys Trapped In Some Cellar, Imagining What They'd Become If They Ever Escaped And Grew Up.

He Wondered If This Was What Clinical Depression Felt Like, A Total Numbness, A Weary Lack Of Hope.