How could they let me grow up like that—happy and pink and stupid?

You & I are here but the wind is everywhere. Cast no words upon it you don’t wish followed back to you.

Life is too hard, too much to handle. Nobody told me there’d be days like these. How could nobody tell me there’d be days like these? How could they let me grow up like that—happy and pink and stupid?

When he kisses me again, the last part of me that could stand myself dies.

When do these three days expire?" "That's what pisses me off. I don't know. He was annoyingly vague." "The nerve. Threatening you and not being precise about it.

What are you" -Mac "I don't follow" -Jericho "You dropped 30 feet in that warehouse. You should have broken something. What are you?" -Mac "A man with a rope." -Jericho

Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does job applications anymore?” “I do.” I squint at it, then him. “What are you paying me?” I angle. “Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does money anymore.” I snicker. First sign of any sense of humor he’s shown. Then I remember where I am and why. I wad it up and throw it at him. It bounces off his chest.