Time had a way of moulding people into shapes they themselves no longer recognised.

Cassandra's grandmother smiled then, only it wasn't a happy smile. Cassandra thought she knew how it felt to smile like that. She often did so herself when her mother promised her something she really wanted but knew might not happen.

Ah, well. Life's too short for moderation, wouldn't you say?

It's a funny thing, character, the way it brands people as they age, rising from within to leave its scar.

Only people unhappy in the present seek to know the future.

... people who'd led dull and blameless lives did not give thanks for second chances.

I write what I'd like to read and just hope that, along the way, others might like to read them, too.