from FRANCES JOHNSON (a novel):

If she was not a child, then surely she was a type of girl. But she was not a girl, nor was she a married woman, by any means. She had no offspring, and often browsed through boating magazines; with her mouth and eye-wrinkles she seemed almost an older woman; but she was not. Her belly burned atavistically at times, and she could be aroused upon hearing anyone at all cough or speak her name. What was a girl? Frances never had quite considered herself a full woman; besides, older women were clearly prone to ugliness and illness. She was not that way—not yet. Was she unique?

She stepped toward Kenny, who held a broken cracker in one hand.

“Kenny, when I was four years old my mother told me, ‘You’re all alone in the world.’ And what do you know: that turned out to be true!”

He stared, then drank down a very small glass of water.