Before the crash, they’d had different ideas about their own resilience, and each other’s.

Now it was always Saturday again and I always had to go to my job at the vintage glasses store.

On the mattress, my eyes fixed on the bulb, I waited and waited and no one came. 

They piled into the truck and started on the thirteen miles over the hard rutted dirt roads to the highway. The high sideboards with the straw still in between the cracks banged wildly from side to side, jerking back and forth the two girls who sat on the boxes at the end of the truck, 

When students here can’t stand another minute they get drunk and hurl themselves off the top floor of the Gehring Building, the shortest building on campus. The windows were tamper-proofed in August

I am sitting in the back of a SMART bus, on my way to Royal Oak, sweating. In my purse is a newspaper-to hide behind, as in bad movies-and three large navel oranges to sustain me through my stakeout. 

Dawn in a forest. Pale light in the sky. Woods indistinct. Rustling of leaves, sound of soft, wooden whistles. On a sort of bluff or ledge of stone elevated above the rest there is seen a cloud of smoke drifting up into the sky or trees. 

The house is just how I thought it would look. Right where I thought it would be. I walked here all the way up Dorset Street from the bus stop sweating like I just ran ten miles, but I should be used to heat.