Ann Liang

“Everything’s a form of power,”

Mama always says there are no ugly women, only lazy women—but from what I’ve gathered, it’s more like there are no ugly women, only broke women

I would rather spend the rest of this train ride fighting with him than let him be trapped alone with his thoughts and fears again

Henry, whose head is resting against my shoulder, the soft curls of his hair brushing my cheek, his features smooth and unguarded in sleep. And everything about this moment is so lovely and so fragile in its loveliness that I’m almost afraid to hold it. Afraid that the spell will break.

To live well, you must learn to see yourself first.

Never seen anyone as jumpy as you, she’d said. Must’ve been a mouse in your past life.

... I don’t know. I guess grades are the only thing I have power over. The only thing I have.”

and last shot at the American Dream over, the chapter unceremoniously closed. But I never stopped thinking about the sacrifices my parents made, the pleading look on Mama’s face when she said it, almost like a child—I want to go home—and how the only reason they left home in the first place was because of me.

Even now

My parents didn’t work this hard for me to only get this far

“You tend to stop being so scared when you’re angry,” he explains.

Confusion bubbles inside me. “How—how do you know that?”

“I notice,” he says simply.