4 Quotes by Shannon Bradley-Colleary

Patricia could see Remy dead. Her perfect corpse floating face down in the Oaxacan tiled infinity pool, her flawless stomach distended with decomposition gases, eyes fixed and dilated.

Nineteen ninety-eight was a banner year for Connie. She was separately invited by two male former college friends to participate in an ménage à trois with them and their wives, despite her overbite and diminutive breasts.

Henry's also an insomniac. He suffers from Restless Leg Syndrome. I feel the sheets twitching as his legs move restlessly and think about how incredibly bourgeois we are, with our Sur La Table kitchenware, our Sundance catalogue lamps, our upper-middle class insomnia. Why can't we sleep, I wonder? We have enough to eat, we have a roof over our heads, we're not living in a mud hut sporting a thatch of gnarled leaves that barely cover our genitalia. I'm filled with self-loathing.

She stood with flaccid breasts, somehow still full of herself.