~hannah~

“Women whose lingerie was haunted by the prick of the plastic tag they’d tried to snap off so that he wouldn’t realize it was new. They were the type of women whose own sorrow moved them immeasurably. Who wanted to recount the details of their worst tragedies in the lull after sex.”

“Back in the city, she came over at strange times, carrying a gym bag that stayed untouched by the door. Her husband, Jonathan, was an importer of olive oil and other things kept in dark, cool warehouses. Ana said his name often when she was with Richard, but he didn’t mind. He was glad for the helpless invocation of her real life—he didn’t need a reminder of the limits, the end already visible from the moment she had first shaken his hand, but maybe she needed a reminder.”

“Sometimes a reckoning comes of all the lives we have lost, and sometimes we take it upon ourselves to burn them to ashes.”