Chelsea G. Summers

In the end, I chose to do nothing with what I knew

there was no immediate reason to rush anything.

Divided by what they chose to eat, these people are united by the fact that they committed crimes that caused the State to kill them. What drives killers to kill is a very personal question. We like to think that men kill because they’re men—it’s as indiscriminate as their wont to procreate. The quarterbacks in the high school of life, men are given a wide berth for murder, as they are for most things. Women, on the other hand, kill for only two reasons, or so the people w

I hated the lifestyle section. Lifestyle means nothing; it’s the part of the paper dedicated to making its reading public feel pointlessly bad about themselves—and then convincing readers that the solution to their existential woe is buying the selfsame stuff that made them feel bad. The lifestyle section exists to prescribe a standard of living to which ordinary people should aspire and ultimately fail. The only people to whom a lifestyle comes naturally are the very rich or the exceptionally famous. Everyone else is just trying to hardscrabble an existence about which they don’t feel an unendurable level of shame.

whom I watched through a telephoto lens, as a distant role model. She seemed to be that rare woman who had it all, or at least everything that I wanted: financial success, personal freedom, the slavish adoration of a man, and unshakeable self-esteem.

whom I watched through a telephoto lens, as a distant role model. She seemed to be that rare woman who had it all, or at least everything that I wanted: financial success, personal freedom, the slavish adoration of a man, and unshakeable self-esteem.

“This,” she said, “is what a woman wears instead of armor. You put on the right makeup, and you look invincible. You feel like a warrior. You will still be a woman, but you will wear this on the outside so that on the inside, you will stand tall as a man. Do you understand?”

“Your place is wherever you want it to be, Dorothy. You can work at home, like Mommy, or you can work outside, like Daddy. No matter what you do, be excellent at it, and always look your best.” She paused. “That way the bastards won’t ever get you down.” She looked at herself in the mirror, and our eyes met in her reflection.

“No bastards,” I said.

“That’s right, my darling.” Her lips red, eternally red, infinitely red, an everlasting crimson circle. “No bastards.”

found Italy an interesting place to be a young American woman. I rather enjoyed being objectified. I like it when men look at me as if they want to devour me. I find it deeply entertaining. It becomes annoying only when they start talking, as if I’d have any interest in anything that comes out of their mouths.

It was a wealth of information, and I had multiple ways I could use it. It put a spring in my step, a smile on my face, and a slick of wetness between my thighs. Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.