Micol Ostow

“Amity was the cold, steady gaze of a double-barreled shotgun, bearing down. She was the glint of pinprick pupils gleaming through a night-lit window, the rythmic blast of a door left banging in a gale wind. The slither of a flesh-flayed limb beneath a bed skirt, a welcome note etched in blood. Amity's forever was reflected in the glimmering edge of an ax, in the rushing footprints, the twitching tail, the brushing fingertips of a zephyr, a cipher, a wordless, formless shape.”
― Micol Ostow, Amity

“But every once in a while, I could be normal. I could be the way other people are all the time. I could be nice. Once in a while.”
― Micol Ostow, Amity