Call It Crazy, Or Just Chicken Salad.

Still, There Was Also Was Something Reassuring About Working For Commercial, Almost Hopeful. Like Things That Were Lost Could Be Found Again. As We Drove Away, I Always Tried To Imagine What It Would Be Like To Open Your Door To Find Something You Had Given Up On.

Morgan Sighed. "i," She Announced, "am So Pathetic." "you Are Not," I Said. "i Am." She Went Over And Straightened The Cling Wrap, Corner To Corner. "do You Know How Many Times I've Brought In Devilled Eggs? This Is, Like, The Only Time I Haven't Been Sobbing And That's Only 'cause I Cried All Night. And Norman," She Said, Her Voice Rising To A Wail, "sweet Norman, Always Just Acts So Surprised To See The Eggs, And Pleased, And He Never, Once, Has Ever Acted Like He Knew What They Meant."

Please. She Sighed. 'can't A Girl Have High Standards? I Don't Want An Ordinary Boy.

You Bought Me Some Forks. And Knives. And Spoons. Because You Love Me!

It Was Always Late At Night, When Everything And Everyone Else Was Quiet, That Those Voices Would Rise Like Ghosts, Soft And Haunting, Filling Your Mind Until Sleep Finally Came.