Lately he'd been seen going out less and less, becoming that strangest of animals in a small town: a loner.

She still felt shell-shocked by all of it, numb. Beneath the numbness, though, was a raw and terrible anger that was unlike anything she'd felt before. She had so little experience with genuine anger that it scared her. She actually worried that if she started screaming, she'd never stop.

Real friends. The kind that don't purposely hurt your feelings or stop liking you for no reason.

As mothers and daughters, we are connected with one another. My mother is the bones of my spine, keeping me straight and true. She is my blood, making sure it runs rich and strong. She is the beating of my heart. I cannot now imagine a life without her.

Sometimes being a good friend means saying nothing.

When you're a mom, you learn about fear. You're always afraid. Always. About everything from cupboard doors to kidnappers to weather.

Thoughts - even fears - were airy things, formless until you made them solid with your voice and once given that weight, they could crush you.