Third person

Dinner with Dennis for the second time. Coming out of the ladies' room, I had the urge to admire him with the distance. He glanced at the girl across our table. Dennis and I—now both unaware of time—had our sight fixed on breathing objects. I would not have been jealous had the girl looked back at him with intention. She remained stolid; her attention absolute to her book.

Most checked out

To rebel, to never rush

Reflections after reading The Beach by Alex Garland

Thinking inside the black box

Some Stuff

The secret to a good story

Dwell

The dearth of middle-aged heroines

Notes on 'Arsenic and old lace' and the insane

Disjointed