She was aware that she was writing about her childhood in an attempt to make a third door; she needed to take a sledgehammer to a wall to find a way out of the here and now.

She knew Julia must be awake now and upset at her. Sylvie felt like part of herself was in that apartment, on the couch beside her older sister.

He was becoming more aware in general. What had been a dull paste of emotions inside him had more texture.

She believed in choices, if she believed in anything. Set a goal, and then work your ass off to get it.

She wished she were standing in front of those images, looking at one strong woman after another,

Julia wondered if Rose had sensed that she was about to become a supporting character, instead of the main one, and left to avoid that fate.

With all the threads cut inside her, there was no way for her to resist. She could feel her friends’ love pushing past her skin, into her body, and she cried too.

anyway. She realized that she was most certainly a mammal and had the ability to shake the world apart and create a human when she unleashed her power. She was a mother. This identity shuddered through her, welcome like water to a dry riverbed. It felt so elemental and true that Julia must have unknowingly been a mother all along, simply waiting to

Fridays were always “girls’ nights,” and the mother and daughter spent the whole week discussing which movie they would rent from the Blockbuster store on the corner. They watched the film while wearing fuzzy robes and painting their nails. If Julia had a date on Saturday night, Mrs. Laven and Alice would order Chinese food and then play Chutes and