black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

With my hand in his, I looked at all the apartment buildings with rushes of love, peering in the wide streetside windows that revealed living rooms painted in dark burgandies and matte reds.

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Apartment Building Dark Hand Look Love Peer Room Rush Streetside Window

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To see someone you love, in a bad setting, is one of the great barometers of gratitude.
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Mom loved my brother more. Not that she didn’t love me – I felt the wash of her love every day.
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Mom flipped through the magazines like the pages needed to be slapped.
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With my hand in his, I looked at all the apartment buildings with rushes of love, peering in the wide streetside windows that revealed living rooms painted in dark burgandies and matte reds.
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Language is the ticket to plot and character, after all, because both are built out of language.
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When the light at Vernon turned green, we stepped into the street and George grabbed my hand and the ghosts of our younger selves crossed with us.
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That she might not actually know us seemed the humblest thing a mother could admit.
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We hit the sidewalk, and dropped hands. How I wished, right then, that the whole world was a street.
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