Who would ever understand me?

Goor or evil, right or wrong, he mattered to me.

Yes, I have loved, Ms. Lane, and although it's none of your business, I have lost. Many things.

He'd made her feel what Barrons made me feel. Bigger than I could possibly be, larger than life, on fire with possibilities, ecstatic to be breathing, impatient for the next moment together. She'd been happy in those last months, so alive and happy.

Barrons’ lips twitched. I’d almost made him smile. Barrons smiles about as often as the sun comes out in Dublin, and it has the same effect on me; makes me feel warm and stupid.

Liminal sucks. You can't grasp it with your hands and shape it. You can't make midnight come faster, or grow up sooner, or avoid the in-betweens. You can only hang in there, and get through them.

If I entered a tropical beach, would I end up in Nazi Germany with my highly inconvenient black hair?