Not an all-time favorite, but here's the one I was most happy with from the last story I wrote ("Dead Girls").
"When his grandparents had been alive they’d sat like stoic, sexless bookends holding down either end of the massive table, a library of silence stretched between them."
And one from my current WIP:
"She supposed maybe that’s what ghosts were: an exhalation of sorrow, a burst of anger, breaths of regret trapped beneath a bell jar that escaped in little puffs every time it was jostled."
"When his grandparents had been alive they’d sat like stoic, sexless bookends holding down either end of the massive table, a library of silence stretched between them."
And one from my current WIP:
"She supposed maybe that’s what ghosts were: an exhalation of sorrow, a burst of anger, breaths of regret trapped beneath a bell jar that escaped in little puffs every time it was jostled."