“Fast Fast Fast”
Genevieve Hudson
"Fast Fast Fast"
"My best friend, Garla, is a model from somewhere Swedishy; when people try to pin down where she just yells, “Vodka,” or if she’s in a better mood, “Vodka, you know?” which seems like she’s maybe saying she’s Russian, but really she just wants to drink. "
"Natalie woke that morning with blood between her thighs and dripping down her legs. Usually she can predict her periods, but her body’s out of whack from the abandoned fertility treatments."
"Say it. The beginning and end at once. I'm facedown in a truck bed, getting ready to be dead."
"Let me tell you something about trees. They speak to each other. Just think what they must say. What could a tree have to say to a tree?"
"That night, when everyone was asleep, Charlotte could bear it no longer. She slipped from beneath her thin blanket and sat up for a moment to orient herself in the gloom."
"When Leslie was twenty-five, she lived in New York and, for longer than she should have, dated Todd."
"The house in Oliwa already looks different now. And when Granny dies—which will be soon, and I can write that with a tranquil mind, firstly because we’ve long since come to terms with the idea, and secondly she’s never going to read this anyway because she doesn’t read any more—the whole place will change out of all recognition."
"Reno is always silent, even during the day. The casinos are airtight edifices, carpeted inside, and no noise spreads beyond the rooms where the slot machines and the gaming tables stand in serried ranks."
"The cake was a huge, tiered thing, painted with butter cream and decked with tiny red flowers, floating on a glass pedestal in the middle of the crowded room."
"Tomorrow evening, Harry Tabor will be anointed Man of the Decade. If this were the 1300s, he would be running for his life to escape savage pogroms in France, Spain, Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Belgium, or Bohemia."
"It was a typical morning. The cockerel was crowing. The dog was scratching behind his ear. The aroma of coffee wafted through the house. The parrot mimicked Papa’s voice. We could hear the sound of a broom scraping the ground in next-door’s yard, and the strains of a radio blaring somewhere in the neighbourhood."
"In the month of May, 1898, on his wedding night, Thomas Griffith Smolders was chased around his hotel room, not by his bride, as you might expect, but by a ball of fire—luminous and strangely cool."
"When I hit the bitumen and get that smooth grey rumble going under me everything’s hell different. Like I’m in a fresh new world all slick and flat and easy."
"When I walked through the large iron gate of the hospital, I must have still been alive."
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