Alexis M. Smith

He went on, but I tuned him out. I made eye contact and nodded occasionally, but I didn__ hear what he was saying. I had heard it all before. Even men who should__e known better__vereducated progressive types who probably considered themselves feminists__ad no compunction explaining things to me.

A fire needs three things: a dry bed, fuel, and room to breathe.

The woman seems ready to be pleased with the world.

We do not last, she thinks. In the end, only the stories survive.

When I let go of my own work, my own priorities, I lost the qualities he had been attracted to in the first place. That's how he put it. He loved the woman I was before I was in love with him.