Light had a way of keeping the monsters of my imagination at bay.

That was a good fight back in the gym,” he said. “But I think you could benefit from a few more boxing lessons.

What good is a body if I can't have you?

Vee: And I'm not going to let you sit at home all afternoon with your sour face on. Nora: I don't have a sour face. Vee: Yes, you do. And you're wearing it right now. Nora: This is my annoyed face. You woke me up at six in the morning!

I wanted to imprint his touch, his taste, even the scent of him so solidly inside me that no one could take them away from me.

Did they look like anyone we know? For example… a cross between Pippi Longstocking and the Wicked Witch of the West would obviously give us Marcie Millar

There was movement along the fringe of Chauncey's vision, and he snapped his head to the left. At first glance what appeared to be a large angel topping a nearby monument rose to full height. Neither stone nor marble, the boy had arms and legs. His torso was naked, his feet were bare, and peasant trousers hung low on his waist. He hopped down from the monument, the ends of his hair dripping rain. It slid down his face, which was dark as a Spaniard's.