Sublime

peerless

The route looks like forest, mile after emerald mile. But Douggie sees through the illusion now. He’s driving through the thinnest artery of pretend life, a scrim hiding a bomb crater as big as a sovereign state. The forest is pure prop, a piece of clever artistry.

She reads Thoreau over wood fires at night.

anthropomorphically.”

perfunctory

He wasn’t at all difficult to replace, so he went home and the business carried on existing.