I admired that stride; it was like he folded space in two with it.

Mom flipped through the magazines like the pages needed to be slapped.

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

...a Dorito asks nothing of you, which is its great gift. It only asks that you are not there.

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

But I loved George in part because he believed me; because if I stood in a cold, plain room and yelled FIRE, he would walk over and ask me why.

I like birthday cake. It's so symbolic. It's a tempting symbol to load with something more complicated than just 'Happy birthday!' because it's this emblem of childhood and a happy day.