All the same, it was Sally who wouldn't bathe or eat or play pattycake with her baby. Sally was the one who cried so many tears there were morning when she couldn't open her eyes. Each evening she searched the dining room for the deathwatch beetle who'd been said to have caused all this grief. Of course she never found it and so she didn't believe in it. But such things hide, in the folds of a widow's black skirts and beneath the white sheets where one person sleeps, restlessly dreaming of everything she'll never have. In time, Sally stopped believing in anything at all, and then the whole world went gray. She could not see orange or red, and certain shades of green -- her favorite sweater and the leaves of new daffodils -- were completely and utterly lost.
My favorite passage from my favorite book:
Alice Hoffman's Practical Magic
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