- the weight of feathers, anna-marie mclemore
- "cluck knew the shape of her. he knew her hands. he'd seen her set them on her hips." (p. 58)
- "having her there made him look at the birds a little less. when she was watching, he could watch her. he could study how her skin and her eyes and hair were all gradations of the same color, lighter to darker. the only parts of her face that broke the sequence was the pink on her lips and the deep red on her cheek, like crushed raspberries. if he stopped thinking of how much it must have hurt her, that patch on her cheek was beautiful." (p. 141)
- "she wouldn't have caught cluck's laughs if she hadn't been so close to him. they were short, quiet, the same low pitch as the air pulling past the cab. they intertwined with lace's, her hands still sparki...
jan 1 2021 ∞
jan 25 2021 +