My smoky breath turns to liquid as it hits the window and, if I rub the mist into heavy droplets, I can make it trickle down the glass.

NPR: Excerpt: 'The Sister'

My private theory is that some of the wisdom of the ages has been passed along in their genes, and a little may rub off on me, if I allow it.

NPR: Excerpt: 'Dog Days'

By the time I am 65, I suspect it will be means-tested away from anyone with two nickels to rub together.

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