Quotes from Sarah Beth Martin

She wanted to go in, to be swallowed up in the magic mist at the end of the hall. Inhaling deeply, she smelled the sweet perfume of enchanted men and women, and imagined what it was like to be Gwen Mann.

He wanted to believe nothing had happened, that their night on the river ended like any other night.

It was strange letting her body do such things, while her mind hovered outside somewhere, just on the outside of her skull. Strange for things to be fuzzy, always out of reach, whether doorknobs or flowers or her own baby. She was no longer intact or in control.

Thoughtful, innovative, this mother was; she always had the solution. So on the stickiest of nights, when the varnished wood chairs sweated and moths panted against my window screen, I would crawl into my smooth white bed of ice cream.