“The only thing that gave the room any color, save the color coming form the light outside, was a painting on the wall, one of a beach at sunset. It was an abstraction, but it was impossible to fail to understand to whom the house belonged. It was only another minute before someone out of sight answered the door.”

“I suppose at some point you showed him a picture of me, because when he opened the door he recognized me instantly. He looked tired, wrapped in blankets and layers, like he hadn't been sleeping. The lights were off, and I couldn't tell if it was on purpose. It was in the dark that I noticed another shape, but I could not make it out.”

“I had hoped that finding you would have been easy, that you would have remained at that old apartment building, even if it was going to hurt. I think that was an unfair presumption. That place smells of sea water still, and there is a film on the tub that won't go away.”

“I remember the first day my mom had me stay home from school. I wasn't sick much when I was little, and things just seemed to fall into place when it came to friends and family. Everyone just seemed very lucky, and I didn't go to my first funeral until I was sixteen. But that wasn't why my mom had me stay home from school that day…”

“Blood breaks upon the rocks, as the water cascades and shifts around me. The foam is a rich pink, while the green lake water looks like oxidized plasma. It is sunset, but the only difference that makes is the deepening of the reds that have dominated the sky, along with the enlarging of the sun, if only through distortion.”