She used to cry roughly three times a year. Now she seemed to cry three times before breakfast. Could that be considered progress?

Life isn't just fair. It's just fairer than death, that's all. -William Goldman

Bridget cried for the leavers and the left. For the people, like herself, grimly forsaking what precious gifts they would ever get.

I mean putting yourself out there in the way of overwhelming happiness and knowing you're also putting yourself in the way of terrible harm. I'm scared to be this happy. I'm scared to be this extreme.

So far, she’d been her usual lame self: solitary and routine-loving, carefully avoiding any path that might lead to spontaneous human interaction. Lena Kaligaris

Carmen sat up when she heard a familiar trill from her computer. It was an instant message from Bee. Beezy3: Packing. Do you have my purple sock with the heart on the ankle? Carmabelle: No. Like I'd wear your socks. Carmen looked from her computer screen down to her feet. To her dismay, her socks were two faintly different shades of purple. She rotated her foot to get a view of her anklebone. Carmabelle: Ahem. Might possibly have sock.

A loving soul was always more beautiful over the long haul, but actual prettiness was fleeting.