The Ex

I’m not good at everything. Or, to be more honest, I’m pretty bad on some fairly major metrics. I’m selfish. I feel entitled to things always going my way

Until a book is read, a story hasn’t really been told

Charlotte’s message had also asked whether I wanted the old photographs of me and Jack, the ones he kept in his closet. It took me hours to decide that, yes, I did want them. I had no idea why, other than that the thought of them being thrown down the trash chute with coffee grounds and greasy takeout containers made me break down in tears in my office.

Have you ever noticed how things that seem like big decisions turn out not to be?

People don’t stop existing just because they’ve done something terrible.

of all people knew that having an affair didn’t make you a murderer. But it did make you a liar.

“I’m serious. And this isn’t about you and Anne. It’s for one of my cases. A married man had condoms in his briefcase: what does that mean to you?”

All those times I had lied to Jack, it had never dawned on me that he might be the better liar.

THE MARCH TOWARD a criminal trial is slow but never steady

I think being able to use one little four-letter word to convey a hundred different thoughts is pretty fucking creative.