[b]Liane Moriarty
It was interesting that fury and fear could look so much the same.[/b]
Nope, not in my mirror they don’t.
Poor, poor Pandora. Zeus sends her off to marry Epimetheus, a not especially bright man she’s never even met, along with a mysterious covered jar. Nobody tells Pandora a word about the jar. Nobody tells her not to open the jar. Naturally, she opens the jar. What else has she got to do? How was she to know that all those dreadful ills would go whooshing out to plague mankind forevermore, and that the only thing left in the jar would be hope?
I know: One God is bad enough.
There is no special protection when you cross that invisible line from your ordinary life to that parallel world where tragedies happen. It happens just like this. You don’t become someone else. You’re still exactly the same. Everything around you still smells and looks and feels exactly the same.
You know, in theory.
Nick explained that an aperitif was a pre-dinner drink. Nick came from an aperitif-drinking family. Alice came from a family with one dusty bottle of Baileys sitting hopefully in the back of the pantry with the tins of spaghetti.
Then Nick explained what a digestif drink was. In case Nora had never had one.
Relationships don’t stay the same. There isn’t time.
This sounds clever but probably isn’t.
Only a man could come up with something so ruthless, so essentially stupid and yet brutally effective.
Either a man or a woman. In, for example, Trumpworld.