I’m Not Interested In Being Polite. It’s

But The Past Cannot Be Changed, And We Carry Our Choices With Us, Forward, Into The Unknown. We Can Only Move On.

With Each Shimmy, The Bugle Beads On Their Scandalously Revealing Costumes Swung And Shook. It Was The Sort Of Display Evie Knew Her Mother Would Have Found Appalling—an Example Of The Moral Decay Of The Young Generation. It Was Sexual And Dangerous And Thrilling, And Evie Wanted More Of It.

But Sons Are A Different Matter To A Man. More A Duty Than An Indulgence.

He Wanted To Hit Something Or Someone. He Wanted To Burn Up The Whole World, Heal It, And Burn It Down Again.

No One Had Ever Said Anything Like That To Evie. Her Parents Always Wanted To Advise Or Instruct Or Command. They Were Good People, But They Needed The World To Bend To Them, To Fit Into Their Order Of Things. Evie Had Never Really Quite Fit, And When She Tried, She’d Just Pop Back Out, Like A Doll Squeezed Into A Too-small Box.