My parents had always been so careful with me, until the day they decided I needed to die.

My father said once that if I didn't have my mother's ginger hair, I wouldn't blush or curse as easily. Which I though was unfair. I hardly ever curse or blush, even though I've had plenty of days that required both.

Clutter is my natural habitat.

She wasn't interested in telling other people's futures. She was interested in going out and finding her own.

Sean looks at me then, his eyes bright, in a way that makes me feel out of sorts. I glare back.

Lunch." I said. "Immediately. I'm going to wither away to absolutely nothing. Then you'll be racked with guilt." "I doubt it.

Then I picked my book back up again and stroked her hair and read to the soundtrack of her breaths.