Crush
You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you've done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you're tired. You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and you're trying not to tell him that you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for.
From the archives
·
1944
Three Ladies In The Morning
The midtown hotel restaurant was almost empty at eleven-thirty in the morning. Three waiters were talking in a corner, leaning against the wall. A young waitress was going from table to table and cleaning out the ashtrays with a wet rag. No one was seated at the larger tables in the middle of the room, but here and there, at the little tables that ran the length of the room at each side, a few late breakfasters lingered over their coffee, reading newspapers. The headwaiter appeared when two tall, blond girls came in, and escorted them to a table beside a pillar. They were almost identically dressed in black suits, with heavy furs over their arms. Both wore their almost-white hair in high, upswept pompadours. One wore a flat red hat tilted over her eyes. The other was bareheaded. Before they sat down, they put their furs over the backs of their chairs.
Read more of this excerpt...
Three Ladies In The Morning
The midtown hotel restaurant was almost empty at eleven-thirty in the morning. Three waiters were talking in a corner, leaning against the wall. A young waitress was going from table to table and cleaning out the ashtrays with a wet rag. No one was seated at the larger tables in the middle of the room, but here and there, at the little tables that ran the length of the room at each side, a few late breakfasters lingered over their coffee, reading newspapers. The headwaiter appeared when two tall, blond girls came in, and escorted them to a table beside a pillar. They were almost identically dressed in black suits, with heavy furs over their arms. Both wore their almost-white hair in high, upswept pompadours. One wore a flat red hat tilted over her eyes. The other was bareheaded. Before they sat down, they put their furs over the backs of their chairs.
Read more of this excerpt...
“There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind.”
NON-FICTION
