“Peter sighed. He turned the palms of his hands up as though to guess at rain. Anna knew him, theme and choreography. The sunshiny spring afternoon seeped through his fingers. He looked up at the witnessing heavens to keep what he could. He dropped his arms and let the rest go.”

—  Grace Paley

"The Pale Pink Roast" (1959)

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Grace Paley31
American writer and activist 1922–2007

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