Luanne Oleas

"But if I hadn't come up to you, I would be alone." (she said)
"You are alone."
"No, I'm coming with you."
"What a pain in the ass! Three pains in the ass!"
"Don't swear."
"Christ's holes, little girl. Christ's bleeding, whor-ng holes."
"Bury my father."
"No."
"He called me his little moon."
"What?"
"His Little Moon. That's what he called me."
"I'll catch it."
"I didn't. You won't."
"I will."
She looked at him now.
"Then maybe you'll go to Heaven if you catch it doing something good."
Thomas went to speak but didn't.
He hung his head and nodded.

"What I can't stop thinking about," the priest went on, "is wine. I never thought it would just run out. I thought men would always make wine, as bees make honey and cows make milk. That I would one day find nobody, not one person, with a skin or a cask or a pitcher of wine to sell, had never occurred to me."

So one of the fallen, whose name was Baal'Zebuth, said, "Let us wear their greatest men like skins, and when they speak, they will speak our words; they will speak of wars, and purging, and of dashing the babe's head. We will turn their understanding so they make their Christ a god of war, and we will cause them to set navies to the seas and armies under the moon with generals whose eyes glow like brands, and we will stir Mamluk and Christian alike to madness by our own deeds, and by our own hands will we hasten the death of men."

"But if I hadn't come up to you, I would be alone." (she said)
"You are alone."
"No, I'm coming with you."
"What a pain in the ass! Three pains in the ass!"
"Don't swear."
"Christ's holes, little girl. Christ's bleeding, whor-ng holes."
"Bury my father."
"No."
"He called me his little moon."
"What?"
"His Little Moon. That's what he called me."
"I'll catch it."
"I didn't. You won't."
"I will."
She looked at him now.
"Then maybe you'll go to Heaven if you catch it doing something good."
Thomas went to speak but didn't.
He hung his head and nodded.

"What I can't stop thinking about," the priest went on, "is wine. I never thought it would just run out. I thought men would always make wine, as bees make honey and cows make milk. That I would one day find nobody, not one person, with a skin or a cask or a pitcher of wine to sell, had never occurred to me."

So one of the fallen, whose name was Baal'Zebuth, said, "Let us wear their greatest men like skins, and when they speak, they will speak our words; they will speak of wars, and purging, and of dashing the babe's head. We will turn their understanding so they make their Christ a god of war, and we will cause them to set navies to the seas and armies under the moon with generals whose eyes glow like brands, and we will stir Mamluk and Christian alike to madness by our own deeds, and by our own hands will we hasten the death of men."

"I know there are plenty of women on Instagram who got divorced and took up running or weight lifting or started their own aromatherapy candle business. They look and feel better than ever, phoenixes risen from the ashes, embracing their "new chapter." I am not a phoenix. I'm a dazed pigeon, looking for crumbs. But I'm fine with that. Being a phoenix looks exhausting."

"Most men are not looking for someone like me. Dan (her ex) can easily date a woman in her twenties; he could have five more kids if he wanted to. It's only women who have a sell-by date."

"Cooper doesn't stir as I climb out of bed. He is generally a sound sleeper, but it helps that I put some opium in the diet soda that I poured him when we were eating the french fries. The colorful flowers in my garden look a lot like windflowers, but that's not what they are."

"I walk down the steps of the front porch right up to Zane's car. He is absently bobbing his head to music, his shaggy hair in disarray. Once again, I fantasize about what I'd do to him with a pair of barber scissors. Then I tap on the car window."

"Cooper doesn't stir as I climb out of bed. He is generally a sound sleeper, but it helps that I put some opium in the diet soda that I poured him when we were eating the french fries. The colorful flowers in my garden look a lot like windflowers, but that's not what they are."

"I walk down the steps of the front porch right up to Zane's car. He is absently bobbing his head to music, his shaggy hair in disarray. Once again, I fantasize about what I'd do to him with a pair of barber scissors. Then I tap on the car window."

(pg. 57) "I pulled up Parker's profile and flicked through his photos again. I'd forgotten all about his message last night, and, now that I thought about it, I wanted to know why he'd sent me a link about Rob. Did he know I'd been on a date with him, or was it just a coincidence? And how many coincidences need to happen before they're not coincidences anymore?"