She is a city haunted by a ghost.
When the architect dreams, her sinews are suspension bridges, her ribs vaulting arches, her bones steel I-beams, and her blood concrete. In her dreams, the city is pristine and perfect. […]
About a week after you and Jorge turn twelve, time calves like an iceberg and the world slips down the slope of history.
You see it coming, not by much. The first signs came a year ago, right after Ma died. […]
The waters had gone stale; the salmon runs dwindled. When we got hungry we remembered what we had tried to forget: that whales were conjoined with humans. That we might speak. […]
The empty eyes of crumbling storefronts watched as a black, early-model Dodge panel truck inched through the sand-blown ruin that had been Pearceville, Texas. Don Webster, rolled up the filthy driver's side window tight against the buffeting dirt and yanked off his government-issue gas mask. […]
Sal doesn’t plan to find the body. She doesn’t even mean to go out. Water’s fetched. Cabin’s swept. Dinner sits hot on the sideboard. In the stifling kitchen, Ma and George scrape gravy to their mouths without a word.[…]
The worst is my own death. A moment of inattention behind a steering wheel, and I kiss my body goodbye.
Actually, that’s not the worst. […]
