what my bones know, by stephanie woo
I wanted to be the kind of woman people didn’t leave.
I wanted to be the kind of woman people didn’t leave.
Posted in bookmaggot | Comments Off on what my bones know, by stephanie woo
Jeremy: Why are they sitting next to a bank of candles? Why is their table in the middle and everyone else’s around the edges?
Jo: Have you never been to a restaurant where you are the main character?
Posted in they crack me up | Comments Off on we watch a bad heterosexual date on the telly
my only job now, in all the world, is to not destroy my kids, and in turn, teach them not to destroy others
Posted in bookmaggot | Comments Off on husbandry, by matthew dickman
I wish I had spoken when it mattered
Posted in bookmaggot, grief, history | Comments Off on whale fall, by david baker
Three years ago Daria described the fall of the Soviet Union to me. She said, Nastya, one day the light went out and the spirits came back. And we returned to the forest.
Posted in bookmaggot, grief, history, worldchanging | Comments Off on in the eye of the wild, by nastassja martin
She had the terrible sinking feeling that whatever was going wrong right now, it was her fault somehow: that she hadn’t been smart enough or good enough.
Posted in bookmaggot, grief | Comments Off on nona the ninth, by tamsyn muir
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