Madison

“In contrast, Oklahoma and the region she loathed as an adolescent now seemed vivid, spacious, and welcoming. She missed the illusion of grass and sky kissing at the end of the world. She missed standing amid a rustling chorus of wind-waving grasses, the four horsemen of the tallgrass prairie—little bluestem, big bluestem, Indian grass, and switchgrass. She missed May fields dotted with black-eyed Susans, Indian blanket, and coreopsis. She missed bursts of red clay topsoil along dirt roads. She missed the smell emanating from meat smokers, the way the grocery store was always empty on Sunday mornings, good thirty-dollar haircuts, and scissor-tailed flycatchers, suspended like supermen in hot, dry air. She missed the evenings most of all: the grapefruit sun hovering above the prairie, dismissing the day with unpredictable strokes of cantaloupe, fuchsia, and violet.”
― Emily Habeck, Shark Heart

“When the affected skin became wet in the shower, it felt smooth when he stroked downward, but if he moved his hand in the opposite direction, the skin felt rough, like sandpaper.”
― Emily Habeck, Shark Heart

“Apparently you didn’t receive our letters at sea. Sit. Eat. You must be hungry.”
― Carissa Broadbent, Children of Fallen Gods

“GEORGE: Julia’s brother, amateur herpetologist.”
― Emily Habeck, Shark Heart