As I got ready for yoga class, I thought about having a baby.
This is what it is to be 29, I thought.
It’s supposed to be good, I keep hearing. So I try to make it good.
The salad won.
I can tell you all the things that are going to happen today and the order in which they’re going to happen.
I noted the time we got the phone call that Dad had died in a hospital room I wasn’t in.
His feet were dancing to “Killer Queen,” which was playing overhead, so I knew he must be a good guy.
I told her I hate it, so she told me she hates me but still puts up with me because life isn’t fair.
Between chapters, I compulsively checked Purple Air on my phone for the latest Air Quality Index.