Fiction just makes it all more interesting. Truth is so boring.

I gave myself a mental shake. Snapping out of a slump, that was what today was all about.

I knew, as sure as I knew my name, that tomorrow he would send me another coat, in a big fancy box, with a big bow on it. It would be the right size, it would be a top brand, and it would be warm. ............... It was cranberry red, with a removable liner, a detachable hood, and tortoiseshell buttons.

Self-pity is like chocolate; as you get older, you can only afford a little bit.

Okay," I said. "I'd hoped to avoid this, but... Bill, I rescind your invitation into my house." Bill began walking backward to the door, a helpless look on his face, and my brush still in his hand. Eric grinned at him triumphantly. "Eric," I said, and his smile faded. "I rescind your invitation into my house." And backward he went, out my door and off my porch. The door slammed shut behind (or maybe in front of?) them.

If it pleases you and you can write at all, it's gonna please somebody else.

I stroked Eric's hair, tucking some behind his ear. His eyes on mine were intent, and I knew he was waiting for me to speak. "I wish," I said, "I could save orgasms in a jar for when i need them, because I think I had a few extra." Eric's eyes widened, and all of a sudden he roared with laughter. (Dead to the World)