Ghost Summer: Stories

She had learned long ago that the truth made people angry, and to speak of it was considered evil.

Danielle wasn’t sure if she was patient and wise, or if she was a tragedy unfolding slowly, one hot summer day at a time.

Letitia knew words were only part of who people were, and usually the least important part.

In a cold place, there's no such thing as today, just tomorrow. Will it snow tomorrow? Will it be sunny tomorrow?

...you know everybody has a turn, and you just try to find something interesting every day to make you glad it hasn't happened yet.

All liberation is loneliness.

Sean was a nice enough guy, but I had known their marriage was based more on practical considerations than commitment. They both wanted a family. They both had pieces missing and were tired of failing. Neither of them had learned, after two divorces, that people can't be applied to wounds like gauze.

Grandmother had passed three summers ago after a stroke in her garden, and now that she was gone, Danielle had a thousand and one questions for her. The lost questions hurt the most.

Bernadette never said these things aloud like an evil stepmother in a fairy-tale, but she didn’t have to. Letitia knew words were only part of who people were, and usually the least important part.