Tension pulled my eyes open when her fingers traced a trail down my neck. Sensation blossomed, and I threw my head back and sucked in the air. Her arm slipped around my waist, catching me before I fell.

Do you have a sleeping bag?” I stared at him. “No. I lost it in the great salt-dip of ’06.

Hate is all that keeps us alive when love is gone. You’re almost there. Not quite ready to let it go yet.

Somehow I found him. Somehow I found Al's sarcastic thoughts, bitter and old. Tired, angry, bored. Alone.

Trent looked me up and down. “Is that all you’re going to do?” My pulse quickened, and I gazed at the front of the basilica where the scratching was coming from. “I might have a snack later if nothing comes through those doors.

Rache,” he said, trying to get into my line of sight. “What more do you need? God to send a telegram?" (Jenks)

I've found that when I'm having trouble solidifying a character or a scene, that music will often free my subconscious just that last little bit to allow me to move forward, and often it's in a direction that I didn't expect, but is 100 percent true to the character.