Sometimes I think about telling Mom how much I hate being home alone every afternoon, turning on the television just to pretend there’s company. All those takeout dinners at the big dining room table, chairs empty, invisible guests eating invisible soup and drinking made-up wine in my head. I want to shake her and scream and tell her that for all her hard work to secure our future, the snake plants in the foyer know more about my life than she does.

Sarah Ockler, Fixing Delilah

All great and precious things are lonely.

John Steinbeck, East of Eden

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She never utters a sound even when she’s crying, and that makes me a little sad. Doesn’t seem right. When you cry, people should hear you. The world should stop.

Libba Bray, Going Bovine