That was a weird thought. My straight-up mother being bothered by faeries? Delia was even weirder. I could picture the scene. Faerie: Come away, human. Delia: Why? Faerie: Untold delights and youth forever. Delia: I'm holding out for a better offer. Ta.

Isabel had gone silent in a way that shouted the silence to me.

You're getting your weird all over me.

It was the stop that happened when you made up your mind to confess, but your mouth betrayed you in the end.

I have a certain avoidance of reality that makes fantasy an ideal choice for me.

Write the book you've always wanted to read, but can't find on the shelf.

I expect that would be a very different world with very different priorities.