The first boy I fell in love with didn't know I loved him, but he managed to break my heart anyway.

I think Bob appreciated my outfit. He made me buy the more expensive pendant. You might think that was to my disadvantage, but I accept that status comes with a price.” “Not usually so immediately.” I shake my head. “You better not be hitting on federal agent ladies. They’ll arrest you.” His grin widens. “I like handcuffs.” I groan. “There is something seriously wrong with you.” “Nothing that a night being worked over by a hot representative of justice couldn’t fix.

It's too early for there to be any coffee. I stare dully at the empty pot in the common room, while Sam picks up a jar of instant grounds. "Don't," I warn him. He scoops up a heaping spoonful and, heedlessly, shovels it into his mouth. It crunches horribly. Then his eyes go wide. "Dry," he croaks. "Tongue...shriveling." I shake my head, picking up the jar. "It's dehydrated. You're supposed to add water. Good thing you're mostly made of water." He tries to say something. Brown powder dusts his shirt. "Also," I tell him, "that's decaf.

Don't be drinking the Haterade.

You can break a thing, but you cannot always guide it afterward into the shape you want.

It makes you a different person, to not have a past. It eats away at who you are, until what’s left is all construct, all artifice.

I have no memory of climbing the stairs up to the roof. I don't even know how to get where I am, which is a problem since I'm going to have to get down, ideally in a way that doesn't involve dying.