You look like a puppy. Like I'm jingling my keys and you're jumping by the door waiting for your walk" "Woof.

There was something awful about terror trapped behind silence.

I'd be happy with this summer if it's all we ever had.

...and we sat like that, one creature in two bodies, for a long time, until I forgot what I'd been upset about and I was myself again.

I started down but Sam caught my arm and knelt down himself to look. "For crying out loud," he said. "It's a racoon." "Poor thing," I said. "It could be a rabid baby-killer," Cole told me primly. "Shut up," Sam said pleasantly.

That night, like every other night since I’d met her, I curled Grace into my arms, listening to her parents’ muffled movements in the living room. They were like busy little brainless birds, fluttering in and out of their nest at all hours of the day or night, so involved in the pleasure of nest building that they hadn’t noticed that it had been empty for years.

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.