I pressed my head into the pillow and I screamed.
Pure sound. No words. But it all came out as your name.

“Don't let them get to you,' the pastor told us. 'All they have is hate, and in …”

“They don’t have silences together; they have noise. Mostly his.”

“You may not have noticed, but I’m not what you’d call conventionally beautiful.…”

“Beautiful sadness is a myth. Sadness turns our features to clay, not porcelain.”