“The likeness she had been searching for was on her face the whole time.”

“She approached the car with a confident stride that implied she had lived on the block her whole life.”

“Parker fixated on the envelope's precise penmanship as she lifted it. Her grandmother rarely took the time to write her own name in the return address, let alone give it the aesthetic attention that this one so seemed to demand. Once, when Parker questioned her on this, her grandmother casually asserted that she "didn't quite believe in envelopes" as if this were a debatable concept like Socialism or wearing white after Labor Day.”

“Eventually, as her grandmother’s sobs softened, she pulled her away and – looking deeply into the clouds of her grey eyes – lifted her and led her home for the last time.”

“She looked up and saw the right angles of time above her as the clock hit three.”

“This was the place where someone had led her, only she could not remember who and could not remember when. Just that this was where she was now.”

“She kept public radio on so it sounded like someone was sitting next to her, engaging her in intriguing conversation.”