The point is, stories can be all lengths. Never underestimate the power of “less is more.

Dead people I could handle. They were usually beyond hysteria. This was the people-left behind part. The hard part.

Wait, what are you doing?” She could apparently hear the strain in my voice as I craned my neck from side to side. “I’m trying to see past a little girl on my hood." “Oh. Isn’t that dangerous?” “Normally. But she has a knife.” “Oh, well, then, I guess it’s okay.

We stood there, the three of us, our jaws firmly planted on the floor. Aunt Lil recovered first. She nudged me with her elbow and said with a cackle of delight, "I think you guys should make some more of those brownies, 'cause that boy looks hungry.

I went down like a drunken cowgirl trying to line dance to Metallica.

I have them a few minutes to absorb everything while I teased Ubie, who only had to recover from his near-death experience. I was so glad Reyes hadn't ripped him to shreds. I liked him much better un-shredded. Unlike, say, my preference for lettuce or heavy metal guitar solos.

Hey, I'm going to Super Dog for a quick bite and to pass along a message from a dead guy to his girlfriend. You should come with me." "I can't go with you." "Is it because of my questionable morals?" "No, it's because it's three o'clock in the afternoon and I have to pick up Amber from school." "Oh, right. So the morals thing doesn't bother you?