Good words

After a long, long pause, during which Luca breathed wetly into his fingers and refused to relinquish the kind blacks and sparkling browns that were dancing on his closed eyelids, Perse coughed.

But their characters might have been two roads in a yellow wood: they could not have diverged more.

Each row home is designed like a cadaver lying flat on a table: at the prow of the apartment is an abbreviated entryway that normally holds Adina’s kicked-off boots and her mother’s neatly arranged work pumps, hallway like a throat leading to the open kitchen, the torso a family room big enough to hold a couch and a half-moon table covered in the o

Andrew was the worst about it, the one who clammed up or outright lied so people would stop trying to pry apart his bones and see why he was riddled with peculiar agonies.

The walls had tumbled over at some point, the whole structure now just a tossed salad of boards and charcoal.

the crows rising as one out of the stubble fields, quick and crackling like thought, exactly like what she imagined thinking was like;

One particular model on Anthropologie’s website appears to be in perpetual agony. She startles Adina as she scrolls the store’s wares: a smile, a beatific glance, then her: devastated. In a hip-length top, a flowy jumpsuit, a drop-waisted wrap dress, she is inconsolable. So different from the other models, pleasant and isolated in their editorial p

He could only handle life if he looked at it carefully from the corner of his eye.

In the end, Abbott Coburn had simply not been made for this world. He was one of those extra screws you find in the box after assembling a piece of furniture.