The First Sentence Of A Book Is

Ive Inherited A Sense Of That Loss From My Parents Because It Was So Palpable All The Time While I Was Growing Up, The Sense Of What My Parents Had Sacrificed In Moving To The United States, And Yet At The Same Time, Building A Life Here And All That That Entailed.

That The Last Two Letters In Her Name Were The First Two In His, A Silly Thing He Never Mentioned To Her But Caused Him To Believe That They Were Bound Together.

I Would Not Send A First Story Anywhere. I Would Give Myself Time To Write A Number Of Stories.

Each Day She Removes A Small Portion Of The Unwanted Things In People's Lives, Though All Of It, She Thinks, Was Previously Wanted, Once Useful. She Feels The Sun Scorching The Back Of Her Neck. The Heat Is At Its Worst Now, The Rains Still A Few Months Away. The Task Satisfies Her. It Passes The Time.

The First Sentence Of A Book Is A Handshake, Perhaps An Embrace.