Join 📚 Carla's Highlights
A batch of the best highlights from what Carla's read, .
We were going so slowly and the woods were so shaded and dark it seemed the trees, not the car, were moving. They were sliding past the windows, mechanically, and it was the car that seemed fragile and hesitant.
History of Wolves
Emily Fridlund
On Thursdays my route took me through West Fever, a miserable tick of a town burrowed into one side of the county. It contains a bit of pastureland and a lot more marsh, a few gas stations, and a single shopping center known locally as the Man Mall. In the Man Mall there’s a shop that sells fireworks, another that sells guns, a liquor store, a tattoo parlor, and an adult-toy shop with a peep show in the back. With forty dollars in your pocket, you can hit the Man Mall on a Friday night, get shitfaced, get blown by a stripper, get her name tattooed on your arm, celebrate by launching a bottle rocket over the interstate, and pick up a .38 so you’ll have an easy way to kill yourself in the morning.
Have a sleep. Eat something. Get strong. There’s all of tomorrow not touched yet.
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