1838 10 9
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The tiny green light flashing in the lawn of an apartment building one night that caught Roberta’s attention while we were walking home from Café Vita.
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1838 10 3
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She refuses to let her eyes cry. Her eyes played tricks on her and showed her one thing was really another. They don't deserve to cry.
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1837 11 8
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“Sometimes when I feel the urge to create, I don’t know whether to grab my paints, my camera, my guitar or my pen.”
“You could have sex,” her friend, sitting in the desk next to hers, joked.
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1837 12 12
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Your soap on the shelf in the shower
melts with my every hair wash
and I'll miss it the way I should have missed you.
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1837 12 10
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Poor kid. She didn't mean to leave my business card on her kitchen counter next to the telephone. It was a mistake.
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1837 16 15
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When I died, she said, she was going to have me cremated and put my ashes in the cats’ litter box.
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1837 1 1
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When Kim handed me some of her husband’s condoms—“Here, use these”—out of one of their bedroom dresser drawers, could she sense the astonishment I was trying my best not to show?
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1837 0 0
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Oh, and take off all your jewelry unless you want your relatives sifting you through a window screen looking for your diamond.
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1837 0 1
|
I watch my brother carry her into the hospital, and I love him with parts of myself I didn’t know were capable of love. I love my brother with the space behind my eyes, the skin between my fingers, the ends of my hair, the crease in my neck. I love him wi
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1836 7 2
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French pee runs stronger, less minty. In France the world' a pissoir.
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1836 20 8
|
Phoebe-Lou Adams wrote this of them
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1836 10 4
|
So, like I said. Da. I have dealt with the men, when I was a lap dancer. The men they need the….manipulations. I have good hands. They want me to see them naked, their power. Here it is only the women. The massage, the facial, the waxing...
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1836 14 11
|
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1835 0 0
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—with spinster goddesses in the middle of things / circling looms.
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1835 5 2
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“It’s about basic working conditions!” she says, rubbing ice cubes on her nipples.
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1835 0 0
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As children we invent games and we're really creative. We concoct ridiculous rules and enjoy making adaptations to them. And everything makes sense. Then you grow up, lose creativity. You don't invent games anymore. Recess is replaced with a second…
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1835 10 6
|
I turn up the music and slip into drone, rock it like a tunnel in canary. When that does not erase his face, I cup my breast with one hand and let my hair fall.
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1835 2 1
|
She persisted. “How long have we been here?”
A note of anger crept into his voice. “How long? How long? Why …, why ….” He swallowed hard, realized he had forgotten.
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1835 16 9
|
homelessness, you called the lie,
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1835 7 6
|
There’s not enough cigarette cloud to conceal her, malnourished and pale beneath blue and pink lights that summon 80s-era skate rinks. She saunters towards the center of the stage, asking her bored expression to convey detachment, while a DJ that fits the
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1835 5 2
|
The courtroom smelled a lot like mold and it was hot as you could imagine. I sweated through my shirt and wondered if he wasn’t dying under his robe. He looked down at me from his bench and I just knew he was going to call me a commie and sentence me to l
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1835 16 15
|
The dancer was a little chubby, but I didn't mind. It gave her more to shake.
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1835 6 2
|
They stood at the intersection waiting for the light to change so they could cross the highway.
|
1834 14 8
|
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1834 17 15
|
Before the days of “customer experience,” Eddie figured out whatever information he could about his clients. He asked them for business cards, recorded their phone numbers from the reservation book, snapped photos of them in his mind…
|
1834 2 1
|
He’d been wishing for months that he’d bought a retro clothing store. He would have called it HARRY’S HOARY HOSERRY. He would have met a better class of women.
|
1834 2 1
|
She stepped into a pair of high heeled slippers and began to dance. She was Salome, a witch, dancing like the most beautiful, the most skilled whores of Paris.
|
1834 1 0
|
It was stubborn early winter, when everyone was cold but went outside anyways, rubbing red fingers and shuffling feet.
|
1834 7 2
|
It’s not just the mailman. It’s the logo on the mailbox down the street. It’s the uniform. It’s any man or woman in the whole unsettling profession.
|
1834 12 12
|
Momma called them Vaughens, "a outfit," and said, "they shoulda throwed the book at that Darla Jean."
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