The book she had been reading was under her pillow, pressing its cover against her ear as if to lure her back into its printed pages.

perhaps because this time not fear but love made him read.

Fire and water," he said, "don't really mix. You could say they're incompatible. But when they do love each other, they love passionately.

She pressed her hand against her chest. No heart. So where did the love she felt come from?

Hey, don't take this the wrong way, but don't come back, ok?

She always did like tales of adventure-stories full of brightness and darkness. She could tell you the names of all King Arthur's knights, and she knew everything about Beowulf and Grendel, the ancient gods and the not-quite-so-ancient heroes. She liked pirate stories, too, but most of all she loved books that had at least a knight or a dragon or a fairy in them. She was always on the dragon's side by the way.

My grandmother told stories; she was very good at that.