Light is good company, when alone; I took my comfort where I found it, and the warmest yellow bulb in the living-room lamp had become a kind of radiant babysitter all its own.

I'm obsessed with adolescence. I love to write about people in their 20s. It's such a fraught and exciting and kind of horrible time.

My eyelids are my own private cave, he murmured. That I can go to anytime I want.

When the light at Vernon turned green, we stepped into the street and George grabbed my hand and the ghosts of our younger selves crossed with us.

You're the perfect girl', he said, rubbing his chin. 'You expect nothing.

We hit the sidewalk, and dropped hands. How I wished, right then, that the whole world was a street.

I watched as she added a question mark at the end. Arc, line, space, dot.