Feelings are memories. Memories are also feelings.

Aunt Mercy put down her tiles, one at a time. I-T-C-H-I-N. Aunt Grace leaned closer to the board, squinting. "Mercy Lynne, you're cheatin' again! What kinda word is that? Use it in a sentence." "I'm itchin' ta have some a that white cake." "That's not how you spell it." At least one of them could spell. Aunt Grace pulled one of the tiles off the board. "There's no T in itchin'." Or not.

When I first met you, that's what I remember. I looked up at the sky and thought, I'm going to love this person because even the sky looks different.

Feelings are memories. Memories are also feelings.

She yanked my plate away and took it to the sink. She rinsed some bones that looked like pork shoulder, which was weird since we'd had chicken tonight.

I haven't left a mark on the world, but is that so bad? Considering how deeply the world has marked me?

So you are a vampire." "I most certainly am not." He looked annoyed. "That's such a common phrase, such a cliche, and so unflattering. I suppose you believe in werewolves and aliens too. I blame television.