The Guest: ‘The tension never wavers’ (GUARDIAN)

the sky was dark, the yard lit by floodlights.

So many nights she remembered only as a sour feeling,

his casual stride the ultimate sign of belonging.

As in other moments, Alex found herself smiling for no reason.

The dog was gone, truly gone. The sadness was instant, piercing—her eyes watered. But then, almost as quickly, the fact of the dog’s absence seemed, all at once, like just a fact, another thing that she could not change, a thing she could not help.

Their interest was forever reflected off someone else, forever mediated by another aim.

Alex had the sudden feeling, for whatever reason, that she had been inside the white car. That she had died, here on the highway. It was a dumb thought, but she couldn’t shake it.

Alex felt some camaraderie with the men—here, like she was, to perform.

A lit candle made jumping shadows on the baseboard.