What is a wedding, Cleo wondered, if not a private dream made public, a fantasy suspended between two worlds like a cat’s cradle?

She worried that she was one of those artists who care more about being an artist than they do about making art.

She’d learned early that it was quicker to bond with another person over what you didn’t like than what you did, and that the easiest way to feel close to someone was to do something transgressive together. That’s why smokers always made friends.

We want because we’re wanting. Both senses of the word. The lacking and the longing, all rolled into one. The more you find yourself wanting, the more you want.”

The couple next to me on the PATH train are both wearing leather jackets that reach their ankles. I wonder what came first, the jackets or the relationship.

I tell Frank my favorite painting is Hans Holbein’s portrait of Thomas Cromwell in the Frick. There’s a patch of carpet in front of it that’s grown bald from the thousands of feet that have stood before it. I tell him I think that’s a good thing to hope for in life, for the carpet to grow thin before you.

“You owe yourself the same care you give to others.”

“See, you state that like it’s a fact, like you have some higher knowledge of my psyche that I’m not privy to, but it’s just your interpretation.”

Time moves so slowly in this hospital, it is like we are given a bonus day with every day.

I practice ways of telling people the news. He is no longer with us. He has departed. He’s six feet under. He’s deceased. He passed away. He croaked. He rests in peace. He is no longer of this world. He went to meet his maker. He bought the farm. He’s with the big guy in the sky. He’s pushing up daisies. He expired. He’s dead as a doornail. He kicked the bucket. He’s no more. He’s been reincarnated, we don’t know as what, but we’re hoping anything but a Jets fan.

A group of owls is called a parliament. A group of emus is called a mob. A group of larks is called an exaltation. A group of doves is call a piteousness. A group of ravens is called an unkindness. A group of flamingos is called a flamboyance. A group of peafowl is called an ostentation. A group of parrots is called a pandemonium. A group of starlings is called a descent. A group of turtledoves is called a pitying. A group of finches is called a charm.

That you could be gifted, hardworking, tenacious, even touched by a little bit of luck, and still not succeed, or if you did, not have it last. That never to experience achievements commensurate to your talent, never to receive adequate payment for your efforts, was a terrible, demoralizing thing.