Brit Bennett

You couldn’t separate the shame from being caught doing something from the shame of the act itself

Sometimes who you were came down to the small things.

This was comfort, no longer wanting anything.

That was the thrill of youth, the idea that you could be anyone.

In that little farm town, nothing surprising ever happened, not since the Vignes twins had disappeared.

The line cook wondered if it had been Desiree after all, since Lou was turning sixty in May and still too vain to wear his eyeglasses.