Sometimes the only way to know how far you'd come was to return to where you once had been.
Uh-huh, right. Let me count all the ways you and I aren't going there.
Written on the mirror, revealed by the steam, were the words, I love you, Jane.
I love you." Z squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't be a tragedy, Bella.
What happened to you?" she asked. "I got hit in the side." "With what?" "A knife.
But looking at this closet, so nice and arranged with their crazy lives at rest among these carefully placed clothes and footwear, she felt good about where they were. "Normal" was not a bad things in this lunatic world; it really was. No matter how it happened to be defined.