This should have been amusing to me, the expression on Burdmoore’s face as Sandro recounted the story. But I was focused on Ronnie and Talia, on the way he was making her laugh. Taxi-dino, innuendo. Pointing out a green-and-yellow Blimpie’s sign, “There! One of ours!” Her laughter penetrating his fake sincerity like carbonation.

…man that last line killed me. From the most eloquent, literary, and complex romance novel ever written, The Flamethrowers, by Rachel Kushner.

I’d been listening to men talk since I arrived in New York City. That’s what men like to do. Talk. Profess like experts. When one finally came along who didn’t say much, I listened.

…from The Flamethrowers by Rachel Kushner, who writes like you would if you knew how to write.