Molleigh

“Honey,” I ask, lowering my sunglasses to the tip of my nose, “are we rich?”
― Ali Hazelwood, Bride

“Marianne had the sense that her real life was happening somewhere very far away, happening without her, and she didn't know if she would ever find out where it was or become part of it.”
― Sally Rooney, Normal People

“No, but . . . what will she eat?”
“I guess I’ll have to find another source of blood. Hmm, who could it be? Let’s see . . .” I drum my fingers against the edge of the table to create suspense. It sure works on Ana, who’s looking at me gape-mouthed. “Who smells good around—”
Lowe’s hand closes around mine. Our wedding bands clink together as he lifts it from the table and sets it in my lap, his grip lingering for a second. I feel hot. I shiver. Lowe clicks his tongue. “Stop playing with your food, wife,” he murmurs,”
― Ali Hazelwood, Bride

“carry yourself with the confidence of a mediocre white man”
― Ali Hazelwood, The Love Hypothesis