Good night, sweetheart," he says. "Good bye, sweetheart," I say. And it's so casual, so innocent that he doesn't suspect a thing.

When I am writing anything in general, I just want to tell the story that exists in my head; I don't try to write a parable or make a point.

Do you know what my father used to say?" I ask her. "He used to say that songs had a heart. A crescendo that can make all your blood rush from your head to your toes.

You’re insane, you know that?” he says. “It’s the only thing keeping me afloat,” I say.

Everyone should remember being born. It doesn't seem fair that we only remember dying.

She smiles at our husband as she moves, and he blushes, overcome by her beauty. But I know what her smile really means...Her smile is her revenge.

I can hear my brother's voice in my head. Your problem is that you're too emotional. But how can I not be emotional, Rowan? How can I not care?