Playing basketball while wearing glasses.
In a sunset after a thunderstorm, the clouds have a tangerine underbelly.
His dessert is a cookie drowning in half-melted ice cream. It doesn't matter that he won't finish it. Part of the pleasure comes from chasing chunks of cookie around with his fork in the sweet puddle.
Someone who checked out the book before me penciled a warning over one of the short stories: "If after 5 pages you think this is going to change it isn't. It's like swimming in molasses and takes more from you than it gives back."
To find the speech moving, I have to forget most of what I know about the speaker. I just take in the cadence and listen to the phrases promising hope and progress. For a short while, I can believe the speech is real. The world doesn't yet intrude on its promises.
When we step outside, there's a mix of rain and blinding sunlight. The sun has set fire to the rain.
She lays out a tea service for a woman with white woolly hair and a girl with blue ribbons in her braids.