The crack of plastic split the restaurant in two. It was a small sound, technically. Barely louder than the clink of silverware or the low jazz drifting through the speakers...
The key slid into the lock like it belonged there—and then refused to turn. Rain soaked through my jacket in slow, cold lines as I stood on my own porch...
The cake looked like a shard of winter moonlight under the restaurant lights—three flawless white tiers, glazed so perfectly they held every reflection in the room—and for one suspended second,...
The first thing I saw when the elevator doors opened was the reflection of the Pacific burning silver behind the glass. For a second, the whole top floor of Merit...
The flash from the photographer’s camera hit the crystal chandeliers and came back in shards of white light just as my husband placed his hand on Elena’s shoulder and said,...
The first thing they saw when the door opened was not my face. It was the Pacific. Late-afternoon sunlight spilled across the glass walls behind me, turning the ocean into...
The first time my husband admired that baby, he forgot to sound like a guest. We were standing behind the glass in the maternity wing, looking into a brightly lit...
The red wine hit my chest before I even saw Caitlyn’s wrist turn. One second, the crystal stem was balanced between her manicured fingers beneath the chandelier light; the next,...
The box of chocolates sat on my kitchen counter like a quiet dare, dark ribbon still tied, a dusting of early March snow melting along the cardboard edges where it...
The cream card at the check-in table was thick enough to feel expensive, the kind of cardstock people order when they want elegance to do some of the intimidating for...