I light a candle on my nightstand and hold the paper over the flame until the numbers are swallowed by blackness and fire licks the tips of my fingers.

“You cannot take back words, once they’ve been spoken.”

I try not to breathe in the pungent smell of perfume and sadness

Her shoulders are trembling, but no sound escapes her lips. Did no one tell her it is painful to cry silently?

The diamond looks smaller and less impressive without its casing.

“Love. What a novel concept.”

he has bent his head so low that it threatens to fall off his neck.

Her voice is like nails on a blackboard.

Instead I count—sheep, ducks, chickens, cows, goats, bush rats and corpses. I count them to oblivion.