bookmate game
en

Kate Russell

  • Moren Ruizhas quoted6 months ago
    I feel forced over a threshold, thrust out of my ordinary life into a place where it’s possible for grown men to be so pathetically in love with me they fall at my feet
  • вили.has quoted2 years ago
    Just be nice for once in your life, Vanessa. Why do you always have to be so fucking mean?
  • 📕🖋⚜🐍has quoted2 years ago
    I rub my face, pick up my pencil, and try to work, but within minutes I’m gazing out the window. It’s the golden hour, light setting the fiery trees ablaze. Boys in soccer jerseys with cleats slung over their shoulders head back from the fields. Two girls carry violin cases like backpacks, their twin ponytails swinging with each step
  • 📕🖋⚜🐍has quoted2 years ago
    They’re the same, but I’m changed. I’m unhuman now. Untethered. While they walk across campus, earthbound and ordinary, I soar, trailing a maple-red comet tail. I’m no longer myself; I am no one. I’m a red balloon caught in the boughs of a tree. I’m nothing at all.
  • 📕🖋⚜🐍has quoted2 years ago
    They’re the same, but I’m changed. I’m unhuman now. Untethered. While they walk across campus, earthbound and ordinary, I soar, trailing a maple-red comet tail. I’m no longer myself; I am no one. I’m a red balloon caught in the boughs of a tree. I’m nothing at all.
  • 📕🖋⚜🐍has quoted2 years ago
    stare at the spot where they disappeared, the setting sun glinting off a stream of water leaking from a dumpster, the windshield of an idling delivery van. I wonder what those girls
  • 📕🖋⚜🐍has quoted2 years ago
    In the truck bed, the tarp covering all my stuff flaps in the wind. My parents stare straight ahead, their anger and grief palpable enough to taste. I open my mouth to let it all in and swallow it whole, where deep in my belly it turns into blame.
  • 📕🖋⚜🐍has quoted2 years ago
    When I was younger, my parents used to say I sounded like a mourning dove, always sulking, always so damn sad
  • 📕🖋⚜🐍has quoted2 years ago
    Fall comes on suddenly. The hotels close up and the visa workers go home. The trees turn the second week of September, clusters of yellow leaves stark against an overcast sky. Mornings are cold, wet with fog, and I wake with damp bedsheets twisted around my ankles.
  • 📕🖋⚜🐍has quoted2 years ago
    I said, “You know how sometimes there’s a book that’s yours?” And he nodded, like he understood exactly.
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