“Emma's eyelids flew open, and her expectant gaze honed in on the mirror, peering in wonder at Noah's tiny head. "Aw, Em, it looks like he's got strawberry blonde hair!" Casey commented.Aidan grinned. "Nah, I think it's redder, and he's more of a Ginger."She gritted her teeth at him. "Don't you dare call our son a Ginger!”

“Guthrie handed him the mug, a wee pout pulling his pale face out of shape. With his semi-skimmed skin, faint ginger hair, and blond eyebrows he looked like a ghost that had been at the pies. "Milk, two sugars.”

“And then she frowned, and shook her head, then put her arms around him once more, pressing her face into his shoulder, making a noise that sounded almost like rage.'What's up?' he asked.'Nothing. Oh, nothing. Just...' She looked up at him. 'I thought I'd finally got rid of you.''I don't think you can.' he said”

“He rests his head against the mirror and exhales. In the years he was with Emma he sometimes wondered idly what it would be like if she weren't around; not in a morbid way, just pragmatically, speculatively, because don't all lovers do this? Wonder how he would be without her? Now the answer is in the mirror. Loss has endowed him stupid and banal. Without her he is without merit or virtue or purpose a shabby, lonely, middle aged drunk, poisoned with regret and shame.”

“Who’s fucking you, Ginger?” She knew what he wanted to hear. Throwing her head back, she reveled in every word. “My man. My man is fucking me.”

“The Witch's Life"When I was a childthere was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch.All day she peered from her second storywindowfrom behind the wrinkled curtainsand sometimes she would open the windowand yell: Get out of my life!She had hair like kelpand a voice like a boulder.I think of her sometimes nowand wonder if I am becoming her.”