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.

As I moved deeper into the room, his gaze dropped to my feet, and worked its way back to my face. I was wearing faded jeans, boots, and a snug pink Juicy T-shirt I got on sale at TJ Maxx last summer that said I’m a Juicy girl. “I bet you are,” he murmured.

What is trust, sidhe-seer, but expectation that another will behave in a certain fashion, consistent with prior actions?

The battle had been invisible to the naked eye, but the hardest ones are.

A lamb in a city of wolves.

You'll never be just anything. A tsunami can never be just a wave (...) Waves are banal. Tsunamis reshape the Earth

I make a new discovery that totally blows; dying is the easy part. It's coming back to life that sucks.