Eric moved the broom experimentally and made an attempt to sweep the glass into the pan while it lay in the middle of the floor. Of course, the pan slid away. Eric scowled. I'd finally found something Eric did poorly.

Though I was standing in front of a mirror, I wasn't really seeing my reflection. I was seeing, very clearly, that—at the moment—I was all in the world that Eric could think of as his own. I had better not fail him.

His eyes were still like caves with ghosts dwelling in their depths.

Trees had died to make these forms, and that seemed a great pity to me.

all my bounce has gone flat, like soda with the top left off.

We might be on the same page, but I wasn't happy about reading it.

I held on to my better nature by my fingernails but I held on.