Striking a lighter may be the most intimate contact of my day.
In the photo she had been shouting so hard the veins on her neck stood out.
“It’d be interesting to know why this perfume is so important to you,” my shrink said.
“Hallelujah,” she said the last word, drawing it out
The tune was simple enough, but to pronounce the words with the correct Izzi intonation was grueling.
I dreamed of what it would be like to enjoy marital sex, but mostly of what it would feel like to not be alone.
We develop our own coping rituals.
I wanted to be surrounded by people who, like me, understand the experience of watching your people get killed, again and again.