You Could Not Be Filled With Hate

Ruth Hadn't Talked To My Sister Since Before My Death, And Then It Was Only To Excuse Herself In The Hallway At School. But She'd Seen Lindsey Walking Home With Samuel And Seen Her Smile With Him. She Watched As My Sister Said Yes To Pancakes And No To Everything Else. She Had Tried To Imagine Herself Being My Sister As She Had Spent Time Imagining Being Me.

Once Released From Life, Having Lost It In Such Violence, I Couldn’t Calculate My Steps. I Didn’t Have Time For Contemplation. In Violence It Is The Getting Out That You Concentrate On. When You Begin To Go Over The Edge, Life Receding From You As A Boat Recedes Inevitably From The Shore, You Hold On To Death Tightly, Like A Rope That Will Transport You, And You Swing Out On It, Hoping To Land Away From Where You Are.

But, He Also Said It Because Part Of Him Wanted More Of Her, This Cold Woman Who Was Not Exactly Cold, This Rock Who Was Not Stone.

Well, It's My Voice, So It's More Accessible That Way, And There Are Also All Sorts Of Things Like Plot And Timelines That Are Already Known Entities, So For Me, It's Very Different From Writing Fiction.

Inside The Snow Globe On My Father's Desk, There Was A Penguin Wearing A Red-and-white-striped Scarf. When I Was Little My Father Would Pull Me Into His Lap And Reach For The Snow Globe. He Would Turn It Over, Letting All The Snow Collect On The Top, Then Quickly Invert It. The Two Of Us Watched The Snow Fall Gently Around The Penguin. The Penguin Was Alone In There, I Thought, And I Worried For Him. When I Told My Father This, He Said, "don't Worry, Susie; He Has A Nice Life. He's Trapped In A Perfect World.