
One day, I arrived early, but my time card wasn’t there. My time card: proof I existed in physical time and space. If there was no way to punch in, was I even really there? Who could I turn to with my I.D. photo blank?

Name the goat. This is the most valuable information given by the inmates. If you name it, you cannot eat it. You will care for it. You will see it has a soul. The goat will become like your child. And then they will set you free.

It wasn’t until snorkeling in the Pacific that Louisa began to understand her marriage: the sympathy in their mutual misunderstanding, or the inexorable distance between them, or maybe, only, the magnificence of needlefish.

In sickness and in health, the marriage of your body to yourself, forever. The body does not believe in divorce. Put your soft body inside metal bodies like cars and trains and airplanes, take your body to the beach and burn it brown with oil. Bleach your teeth. Dye your hair. Ornament the flesh with…

The esteemed American novelist, Greg Ivanovski, arrived via the New Canaan branch on a Wednesday morning. By lunchtime, the rumble of loafers and wedge heels had the walnut paneling of the dining hall chattering and the Louis IX chandeliers rocking on their chains. Where had this swarm been only moments ago? Huddled in sleep behind…