Does my new feminism make me look fat?
I wish to live for myself. I should never want to be trapped.
Evie didn’t mind yelling, but she hated feeling judged. It got under her skin and made her feel small and ugly and unfixable.
In a world like this one, only the random makes sense.
It's so laughable that it's somewhere beyond comedy and right into tragedy again.
Will was making a speech, something about having been young and careless once, the sort of thing old-timers said when they issued a deathblow, as if they thought their sanctimonious ramblings disguised as empathy would be welcomed, but Evie was only half listening.