Rock, meet stubborn place.

Keep digging, Flynn. Six feet makes a grave.

... he was sunset against the mountains, strong, vibrant, dangerous, and yet somehow sheltering, protective. And married. Picnic, meet rain.

The Mum has the temper of a demon with a diaper rash. (Shamus)

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I play pool. Shoot hoops sometimes too. Any other sport you’re curious about?” “Hockey? Polo?” “Simultaneously. Trick is to keep the horses on their skates.

I resisted the urge to pour mouthwash in my brain.

Let go of the past, of the things I wanted, of the people I loved, and move forward.