My first word for the New Year was 'exsanguinate.' This was probably not a good omen.
I'd been blindsided with the most painful knowledge: the first man to ever say he loved me had never loved me at all. His passion had been artificial. His pursuit of me had been choreographed.
Oklahoma is very beautiful, and Eric loves beauty, but he already has that in you.
Sookie, my little bullet-sucker" Eric, my big bullshitter
Softie was not a word you could use in the same sentence as Eric.
For awhile I taped soap operas and watched them at night when I thought I might be forgetting what it was like to be human. After a while I stopped, because from the examples I saw on those shows, forgetting humanity was a good thing.