You two are a strange pair. You are a pair, aren't you?" "We're in training.

Sam?" Rachel asked. "Do you know you have the saddest sad face ever?

In his head, his mother said, 'People shout when they don’t have the vocabulary to whisper'.

What were you thinking about? When I came in?" "Being Sam," I said. "What a nice thing to be," Grace said. And then she smiled, bigger and bigger, until I felt my expression mirror hers, our noses touching.

Peeling off my skin / leaving just my eyes behind / You see inside my head / Still know that you are mine.

The place smelled like Sam -- or, I guess, he smelled like the store. Like ink and old building and something more leafy than coffee but less interesting than weed. It was all very ... erudite. I felt surrounded by conversations I had no interest in participating in.

Some people see what they want to see.