Rolph Crying (Auditory Imagery)
In their chapter, Lana and Melora overhear their half-brother Ralph crying in the car: “Once, as we waited outside our father’s house to go home after swimming, we heard anguished cries coming from his fleet of cars. Thinking there might be a hurt animal, we crept among the cars to look.” The statement that he sounds like a wounded animal suggests the intensity of his crying and emotional distress.
Ames Hits the Baseball (Haptic Imagery)
In the final chapter, Ames feels surprise at the sensation of hitting a baseball: “He hits the ball as predicted (by him), smashes the hell out of that ball (his father’s voice in his head), an event fraught with shocking sensations—not at the fact of hitting, which he expected, but at the feeling of hitting, which is entirely new: the violence of it, pain forking up his arms; and the sound, a crack like stone splitting open.” Specifically, he focuses on the "shocking" feeling of its aftershocks moving up his arms.
The Paper Moon (Visual Imagery)
At the end of the chapter she narrates, Molly looks up at the moon: “I hug my warm knees and look up at the sky and there is the moon Lulu pointed out earlier except it’s bigger now and still fragile-looking like it’s made out of sugar or paper and could break or tear easily, but already it’s brighter than before, and it isn’t even night.” Molly compares the moon to "sugar or paper" to highlight both its luminousness and appearance of delicacy. This also takes on a special significance because Lulu was the one to point it out initially, and it reminds Molly of her.
Miranda Smells Like Charred Wood (Olfactory Imagery)
In Lana and Melora's chapter, they describe their mother smelling different when she returns from her trip: “She smelled faintly of charred wood.” The phrase "charred wood" strongly suggests that she spent a significant amount of time near a campfire. This smell also effectively characterizes how immediately different the sisters find their mother, foreshadowing how they will drift apart later.
