But something is wrong with these coots. Why are they moving so strangely?

Everybody gets old, Grandma always says. Everybody withers.

“That’s why I quit politics,” a teen says into his cellphone, juuling with his free hand.

It’s like the menu was created for those of us born with skeletal and jaw problems. Clam chowder, broiled cod, boiled carrots—foods that deliver without crunch.

“Aaron met him in New Jersey, coming back from his twice-annual visit to his sister’s in Cherry Hill, and within twenty minutes he’d asked Max to come home—to live.”

“His face was haggard, scattered with gray stubble and damp with sweat. In the air between them was the musky odor of bourbon. “I am weary with my moaning,” he moaned. “All night I make my bed swim.” He looked at her, and even as she looked away, Kate was sure his gaze was lingering on her breasts.”

“In high school and college, Uma Shastri was good at math and economics because she studied hard. But with a field hockey stick or a tennis racquet in her hand, her body slid to all the right places without conscious thought.”

“Arlene never married Lars because some things are better left unsaid. He asked until the time for asking was over. She didn’t want anyone else, but she didn’t want him on her couch after 7:30 at night.”

“I nod but I really don’t feel so good. I am cold through and through and when I look out the car window at the snow I see trees move when they do not. I am experiencing Death all around me and I cannot move.”