Janice watched the couple stumble into the tattoo parlor. They weren’t holding hands. They were holding bodies, wedged so tight that the only way to get closer would be to bite each other.

Willow Rosen, the first, last, and only white girl Liza’s brother dated, was shot in the stomach on the way home from her after-school job.

Sixteen years ago, I sat down in an airless cabin on a sailboat in Sag Harbor with paper and pen to escape spending time with a husband I did not love.

It’s a bitch driving in Los Angeles when it rains.