“Allen Peniston, a most unhandsome gentleman of thirty-five, looked ashenly over at his date and then down at his ruined fish. His dining chair creaked; it was a blazingly hot July night. Peniston's awful chin, skinny mouth, bad hair, ambiguous nose, and boastful brown eyes spoiled his face with a certain inexpressive and uncomfortable sadness. The date raked her fork over five cold peas.”
“It's time I lay my cards on the table. There's a reason we kinda freaked out when we thought I wouldn't be attending Violet's wedding. The reason: Teddy is going to officially propose to me at the wedding. Email feels so cold for a daughter-in-law/ mother-in-law relationship (okay if I use these phrases?). Nancy, I really would call you, I really would text you, or visit with you in person, or contact you in any other way if I could. But I asked Teddy how I could contact you and he said to email. I hope I'm not making a total fool of myself by sending this.”
“Clay tool in his hand like a surgeon’s scalpel, he gouged and pared the material for over an hour (skipping lunch and the beginning of his next period). Then he was gone for a week (no reason given). Returning, he smashed his sculpture without even removing the rags. But he quickly rolled it out and started in again with the clay tools. He was sweating that day. There was another week of this.”
