So I'm scared, because you're not just not human, you're not like anyone....there's nobody like you in all the world and it's you I want. I want you and I hate wanting things and I especially hate admitting I want them.

I'm afraid my voice is going to break. I am afraid she is going to hear how much this hurts.

Jones looks like he wants to slug me, which is only subtly different from his usual way of looking at me like I'm a slug.

If they were real, then maybe the world was big enough to have magic in it. And if there was magic — even bad magic, and Zach knew it was more likely that there was bad magic than any good kind — then maybe not everyone had to have a story like his father's, a story like the kind all the adults he knew told, one about giving up and growing bitter.

Farewell, Father," she said. He fell back upon his chair, choking. She laughed, not with mirth or even mockery, but something that was closer to a sob. "You crafted me so sharp, I cut even myself.

Refills are free,” the waitress tells us with a frown, like she’s hoping we’re not the kind of people who ask for endless refills. I am already pretty sure we are exactly those people.

Because I am about to be devoured by poodles," I quip. "Remember me always, my love.