When I looked at her, she appeared to be a different person from the one I'd known... She had rewritten everything, our history together, our friendship. Now I was the girl who'd stolen Andres; the girl who'd lied to her about who I was. Therefore, she owned me nothing.

I heard a sigh, as though the books were breathing. I felt that this was where I belonged. This was where I lived.

I thought of the bowl of water my mother taught me to look into. It was true, everything a person ever needed to know was right there in a single bowl small enough to fit in the palm of one hand.

Most people know that Ray Bradbury is one of my favorite authors.

I wrote to find beauty and purpose, to know that love is possible and lasting and real.... Once I got to my desk, once I started writing, I still believed anything was possible.

My sorrow is I used to read all the time and now, as a writer, I don't have the time to read.

Only her death could prove her innocence; a circle of impossible, deathly judgement.