As I handed her the bag, the old scars on my wrist throbbed with buried memories.

But love isn't quantifiable on paper.

You're not that girl,' Cole said, sounding tired. 'Trust me, I've seen enough of them to know. Look. Don't cry. You're not that girl either.' 'Oh yeah? What girl am I?' 'I'll let you know when I figure it out. Just don't cry.

This time, it was more of a thought than a feeling, a soft heat that began at her mouth and unfurled through the rest of her.

He sounded absolutely miserable. “Are you ever going to speak to me?

World of words lost on the living / I take my place with the walking dead / Robbed of my voice I'm always giving / Thousands of words to this nameless dread.

It matters, like this: I belong to Malvern, you don't.