Sublime

He had always wanted Daisy, with an intensity that seemed to radiate from the pores of his skin. She was sweet, kind, inventive, excessively reasonable yet absurdly romantic, her dark sparkling eyes filled with dreams.

“I’m not short,” Daisy muttered. “Short women are never mysterious, or elegant, or pursued by handsome men. And they’re always treated like children. I refuse to be short.”

I need not tell you this was my sister Rose. She is, I know, a comely matron still,

“I thought she was so beautiful. She was—she was wearing a bright yellow dress with little daisies at the bottom edge. I couldn’t stop looking at those daisies. I thought about that yellow dress for days after I left. Every woman I saw in a yellow dress in New York . . .” He trails off and clears his throat. “And when I came back to visit my mom