Not all prisons have bars

My mom has a tape from when I was, like, 2 years old, talking with my grandma, telling her a story that's really elaborate about werewolves and wolves.

This is the way the world ends; not with a bang or a whimper, but with zombies breaking down the back door.

Yeah, you're probably right," I admitted and slowly pulled myself out from underneath the covers. "You know, I really wish you'd catch onto the fact that I'm always right.

He hadn’t been peeping intentionally; he’d been trying to sneak into my room. So that was slightly less creepy, I supposed.

I want to be a writer. I do not want to spend 40 hours a week handling e-mails, formatting covers, finding editors, etc.

Fine. Whatever. I don’t. Nobody understands your pain, Mae. Because it is so unique! Nobody’s ever loved something so much they would do anything to save it, except for you, Mae. You cornered that market!