I don't know if I'd want to be comforted, if I'm being honest. If I'm being forced to eat soot, I want to know that somewhere else in the world, someone else has to eat soot as well. I want to know that soot tastes terrible. I don't want to be told that soot's good for the digestion. And of course, by soot, I mean beans.

He cared for languages dead long enough that they wouldn’t change on him.

Can I ask you a question?" "You already have." He paused, considering. "Can I ask you two questions, then?" "You already have.

The dog pranced delightedly around his feet as if he'd been gone to another planet instead of merely underneath a car.

There's a tap on the door then. We all exchange looks, Tommy Falk's as uncertain as the rest of ours. No one moves, so I finally wipe my hands off on my pants, go to the door, and open it a crack. Sean stands on the other side, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other holding a loaf of bread. I wasn't prepared for it to be Sean, so my stomach does a neat little trick that feels like either hunger or escaping.

Oh, filmmakers, please don't take my soft book and turn it into a horror, or take my horror and make it soft.

And then I did laugh, even though the future was a dangerous place, because I loved her, and she loved me, and the world was beautiful.