In the dark beside me, she smelled of sweat and sunshine and vanilla.
I think if you keep the box closed long enough you do kill the cat, actually.
And I agreed, but still, she owed us an explanation. If she was up there, down there, out there, somewhere, maybe she would laugh.
We can't love our neighbors till we know how crooked their hearts are.
The thing about chameleoning your way through life is that it gets to where nothing is real.
There comes a time when we realize that our parents cannot save themselves or save us, that everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow- that, in short, we are all going.