I looked around in my pantry but there were no sentences I felt like cooking.

Dear Meg, Thank you for submitting your breasts to our evening last night. Your cleavage has been carefully considered, but unfortunately I've decided not to explore further. That said, remember that I am a fan of women in general; my tastes, biases, and opinions…

I could smell a bold combination of cheap perfume, stale smoke, and sex excreting from her weathered pores. The bus engine hummed as we climbed a winding road. She scratched her neck and tried to finger comb through her knotted hair. I caught a glimpse of

The Devil’s laugh was the screech of wind. Ignacio Carillo heard Him as he dug the grave that would hold the body of his beloved wife.

‘Your hands are very clean’ she said to the furniture salesman. His name was Morrison. "After Jim" Morrison Pentworthy. His father specialized in Doors.

…

But the best thing about Rebekah was the way she floated always beneath the scent of woodburn and dusty Middle America,

The redwood trees were taller than dreams

The debits and credits of life have been recalculated. You are not due tax; you are owed a trapeze. It turns out you have a natural gift for hanging upside down, knees to the clouds.

Rowan’s arm burned and throbbed like the center of a neutron star as it went critical for minutes turned inside-out like hours. Standing in a wall, then huddled underneath the couch, she danced around the rim of consciousness, ripping at the seams of her

Last night, in a tavern called Wits End, we dropped quarters into a console, sized and shaped like an old TV.

I looked around the room at the shit, the dog bed, the dish. Lights burst behind my eyes, knees weak. “Fuck…” I bent over and puked.

Fingers fan like birds’ wings cradling the volume, head hanging low and lips moving silently...

You don't make money worrying about other people's feelings. I learned that from my father at an early age. He managed rental properties, which I, his daughter, now own. He wanted a son, so I became one.

One of the pieces, I noticed, had the real shape of a miniature chicken, its mohawk, pin legs, and small definition of wing. “Look at that,” I said to my friend. And just then, the wing twitched.