The first time was in college. A boyfriend, or something between a boyfriend and a hookup, asked me if he could eat some peanut butter off my stomach. “You mean, off my boobs?” I said. And he said, “No, I really want to eat it off your belly while I squeeze it.”
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Any relationship, she thinks, is like watching the images surface on a developing Polaroid. [...] Lately, it seems as if most of their conversations are held either through or about the cats.
“Your Power doesn’t define who you are,” she said the night we met at the Happy Flamingo, a straw floating on its side in her daiquiri.
I go into the water and I wonder if the fear I feel is lesser or greater than the fear of my ancestors.
Every morning we opened our eyes, expecting to see ourselves in [ ], the low valley of our birthplace. In other words, the beginning.
"I kept talking and talking, even as I grew tired of hearing my voice, even as I slid out of the heels I'd been wearing all week"
