But he is pretty. God, I hope he's not an asshole. Do you think there's any chance he's both non-orifice and single? I mean, seriously. What are the chances?

She stabbed him in the armpit, deep, and he dropped his sword. And died. So that's what is feels like, she thought as her boldness gave away to trembling. It feels awful.

Oh, gross. Your stomach is full of butterfly barf!

Cats and ghosts both partook of the saucers of milk and that was okay. They consumed different parts of it: the cats its substance, the ghosts its essence, and none went to waste.

With the infinite patience of one who has learned to live broken, he awaited her return.

It's not like there's a law against flying." "Yes there is. The law of gravity.

I miss sunrise even more. The green scent of dawn in the forest? The color blushing back into the world, different every day.