From her dubious tone alone, I could see how Karin had no idea how terrifying words spoken quietly could be. How words chosen precisely to wreak maximum damage ticked like a bomb in your head, but exploded in your heart hours later, leaving you scarred and changed.

Come on, don't you ever stop and smell the coffee?

If there was one thing I refused to be, it was an insignificant footnote in some boy's history.

Maybe we don't have the same definition of about what's beautiful. So define it. Define true beauty.

I preferred my brand of beauty where Norah was more beautiful than any bimbette, and Mom was beautiful whether sized extra-small or extra-large. Where Peony could look at herself in the mirror and murmur, wow, look at me. Just look at me.

There is real comfort in being quiet.

Adventure in life is good; consistency in coffee even better.