"I am already married," she remarks to the empty air, twisting the ring on her right hand that covers an sold, distinctive scar.

You look like a ghost," Bailey says. He can think of no better way to describe it. "You appear the same way to me, so which of us is real?

Chandresh relishes reactions. Genuine reactions, not mere polite applause. He often values the reactions over the show itself. A show without an audience is nothing, after all. In the response of the audience, that is where the power of performance lives.

I suppose there will never be a lack of things to say, of stories to be told and shared.

I think that's a hallmark of a really good story that it has readers that it speaks to more than others.

Memories begin to creep forward from hidden corners of your mind. Passing disappointments. Lost chances and lost causes. Heartbreaks and pain and desolate, horrible loneliness. Sorrows you thought long forgotten mingle with still-fresh wounds.

It is destroying me that I cannot ask you to dance.