I’ve always hated being looked at.

This was what true fear was--that you could never know other people, not completely. That you were always just guessing blind.

Less than a month ago all of August still stretched before us - long and golden and reassuring, like an endless period of delicious sleep.

My boyfriend's an idiot," I say as soon as he lurches away."A cute idiot," Ally corrects me."That's like saying 'a cute mutant.' Doesn't exist.

The hours here are flat and round, disks of gray layered one on top of the other...they move slowly, at a grind, until it seems as though they are not moving at all. They are just pressing down.

There is nothing else for people to do. They do not think. They feel no passion, no hatred, no sadness; they feel nothing but fear, and a desire to control. So they watch, and poke, and pry.

I want to know." His words are a whisper, barely audible. "I want to know with you.