She looked at me for real and saw I was serious. She saw I knew she was for me like you know that tomorrow morning the sun will rise.

Things change. Stuff happens. Life goes on.

My name is Danielle. I'm eighteen. I've been stealing things for as long as I can remember

I'd dressed up and hoped and I was so tired of doing that, so tired of dreaming and being unable to stop it despite the fact that I'd seen, maybe better than anyone here, what dreams could do to you.

Well as much as I'm sure the people next door who are pretending they aren't looking at me would like to hear what I have to say, I'd rather say it to just you.

My mother taught me to believe in silver, to believe in things, but I think it's more important to believe in me.

I want to lie down on the bench then, or better yet, on the grass, rest on something living and see if I can hear the dead underneath.