The Same, The Truth
We tell the stories as we want to know them, withholding the details that would round them into truth.
We tell the stories as we want to know them, withholding the details that would round them into truth.
“I’m glad you’re here, Will,” said David, “because Sarah and I have an announcement to make.”
Best line: “A guest house, on a teacher’s salary?”
Silent night, hole punch night,
Teachers quake at the sight
So the first counselor who saved me was the one I love most, the one who sometimes knows me better than I know myself.
That’s, I think, the hardest part of this story—it’s nobody’s fault.
It’s like—gasp—a song can be both well thought out and an Oscar-baiting money-grab.
You know what a town car is. You’ve never watched a game on a screen smaller than 52″. You owe a debt to Henrik Lundqvist. You remember the 1994 Stanley Cup, even if you weren’t alive.
Dear twenty-seven-year-old Caroline,
Quit your job.
Today I smell dead quail and gunpowder. Today I taste sweat. Good things, and my attention comes on its own.