Here’s the truth: I am the female version of a heartbreaker. The one that everyone says is too dedicated to ballet, too self-involved to ever care about anyone else besides herself. I’m the rebel. The...

I stand still for a long time, holding the note, and let it all sink in. Her leaving is almost palpable like a gale-force wind that’s rolled into my life in the span of a...

The ending is coming. I can feel it. I don’t know if I can take it this time. But then again, I say that every time and yet, every time I take it. And, I...

What are you doing to me, Elvis?” she asks, looking troubled.

After yoga, I’ll go to Lia’s for the mani-special and then wax on about hairstyles and hemlines until dinner.”If I were gifted at making long-term plans, which by now we all know I’m not, and...

He stands there, facing the largest windows, touching the glass with the open palm of his hands, feeling everything, but seeing nothing.

Finally, I formulate and say a little prayer to God, and since we haven’t officially spoken since my mom and Elliott died that takes up quite a bit of my time. The rest of it...

No. That’s us,” she says with certainty.

There are all kinds of ways for a relationship to be tested, even broken, some, irrevocably; it’s the endings we’re unprepared for.

Here’s what I know: death abducts the dying, but grief steals from those left behind.