*male writer voice* i don’t remember her name. it’s not important. i met her at a record store and she went home with me because i offered to buy her cigarettes. she had amazing perky breasts. we drank cheap whiskey and had sex three times that night and then she told me she wanted to be a dragonfly because they were free. i slept with her many times after that. but one day she stopped returning my calls and i don’t know why. that was seven years ago. on monday she got hit by a bus and died. i saw it in the newspaper so i went to her funeral and it made me sad. i don’t know why. i hate my mother even though she pays my rent while i write poetry about masturbating in the shower
and the commentary on the back of the book be like
“Riveting. Pulls you in and keeps you there.”
New York Times 2018 Best Seller