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She found herself longing for home-not just for the hotel but for New York and all the real novels that she could lose herself in there.

Anna Godbersen

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Anna Godbersen
Age: 44
Born: 1980
Born: April 10
Writer
Berkeley
California
York
Novel
Lose
Loses
Found
Home
Novels
Real
Hotel
Longing

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Her life, she realized, had all the charm of a steel trap.
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So this was betrayal. It was like being left alone in the desert at dusk without water or warmth. It left your mouth dry and will broken. It sapped your tears and made you hollow.
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He was just like summer, and she loved summer. If she had any wish, it would be to live a lifetime of summers.
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All really interesting girls invent themselves.
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So this is how life was, she thought with a faint smile: It wore you down until you emerged at its wildest, most unexpected ends.
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It had been an awful thing to lose Henry the first time, to matrimony, but to discover what a false front he was capable of was another kind of blow, and it had left her almost speechless. Then there was the fury with herself—for she had known what Henry’s love was, and still she had gone back to suffer a little more at his hands.
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What was it about that short creature with her wild hair and spurious air of purity and why would anyone much less two men love her and to such disastrous ends.
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Heart-stopping envy is the sincerest form of flattery.
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The headiest loves were the loves that couldn't be.
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She should have know that villains often come with pretty faces.
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It is a fact of big cities that one girl's darkest how is always another's moment of shining triumph, and New York is the biggest and cruelest city of them all.
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You love her, Teddy observed quietly. Henry replied with an uncharacteristic lack of irony: Yes. Teddy's eyes shifted to the plaster interlacing that decorated the ceiling in curlicues. Lord, you never make it easy, do you. No.
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Girls, their mother interjected, you must both stop being strange - it is unattractive. And don't forget your hats. It would be absolutely the end for me if you two came down with freckles at a time like this.
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Henry turned his hat in his hands but went on looking at Diana in a way that made her want to crawl into his arms and stay there forever.
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Her heart the damned thing had begun to race and she only hoped that the rapid inflation and deflation of her chest wasn't visible beneath her fitted bodice.
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Good night.' Diana summoned all the dignity that she could manage in her bedraggled state and began to move back up the beach. Her dress was soaked and her stockings dotted with sand and her heart couldn't possibly withstand any more.
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As she always did on any really important day, Penelope Hayes wore red.
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That is what I want to tell you about: the girls with their short skirts and bright eyes and big-city dreams. The girls of 1929.
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Already she could feel the stunning weight of a lifetime of regret for letting him go, and she knew that it was enought to bury her alive.
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They were all dressed in their finest as though life really were some magical stage play in which every moment ought to be illuminated with its own bright spotlight.
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