" The Wistful A shirt is for unbuttoning. A name is for forgetting. Drunk is for getting. And hillocks are for sitting on and sighing, when, struck numb by the sun’s delinquent shining, you resign to a strychnine indecisiveness that’s meant to discredit you. You don’t know what to do. Or how. Or who. Or if it even matters, now, to boot. And it suits you absolutely, this languor, this drag. Such as they were, your lusts have been scissored in half. And your heart. That blood-blue slab of vena cava and ventricle, receptacle of kept loves, villain, vile, and trivial— it will take a final beating then throw in its towel. Then brake. Then coast. Then slow to an almost stock-still throb. Then— if you’re lucky—it stops. "

― Jill Alexander Essbaum , Hausfrau