When my car hit the other, they were almost parallel, and they glided together in a metallic grip until the momentum shot my car off the road. Right before the sickening crunch, I closed my eyes and said, “No no no no.”
"I don’t know. It’s sort of nice. Has good bones,” my sister says, referring to the dress I’m holding up for her inspection. It clearly dating from the 1980s, and is so hideous it’s almost alluring, the daisy-print sundress was obviously donated to the ARC for good reason. Why I am putting it in my cart for checkout is less evident.