Mother and daughter like spoons in a drawer.
No. Not really. A weapon didn't come to an agreement with the hand that held it.
Of course he would count the time that we'd been two entirely different species.
I remembered the pain as clearly as if I were shifting — the pain of loss. I felt the agony of the single moment that I lost myself. Lost what made me Sam. The part of me that could remember Grace's name.
sloughing my skin / escaping it's grip / stripped of my wit / it hurts to be me .
You could write a book about things that you can't find on-line.