When she slept, she looked peaceful, beautiful. Not Lena's kind of beautiful, something different. She looked content - like a sunny day, a cold glass of milk, an unopened book before you cracked the binding.

It was crazy how a hearse and a pair of sneakers could cheer a guy up.

I was a fine arts major in college, and a painter for many years. And I found that, like writing, art is very similar.

I care. They bother me. And that's why I'm stupid. That makes me exponentially more stupid than stupid. I'm stupid to the power of stupid.

Lena Smoothed her hair. "Crazy weather you have down here.

Mortals. Everything is so black and white to you.

Lena made a face. She almost never wore makeup; she didn't have to. "You know, it's not like we all sign a contract with Maybelline when we turn thirteen.