Quotation
... she never had to worry about him whining or bitching or kvetching in any way.
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“I do business with them,” he said. “I do not love them. I do not share the beautiful things in my life with them.”
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There seemed to be little rhyme or reason as to why one day snatching the correct words from the ether was like opening a faucet and other days it was like opening a vein, but she began to suspect both the good and the bad parts of the process were connected to the fact that she was writing without a map.
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Melissa, on her day off, barely touched her meal and was downing Bellinis as if prosecco would be outlawed at the stroke of midnight.
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Happiness, her mother used to say, was an hourglass with a crack in it.
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And she knew fine, fine people who’d stood before God and all their friends to profess their undying love to each other only to toss that love on a slag heap a few years later.