When he moves, a streetlight stabs him, and the words flow out like blood.

It's hard to not like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them

I procrastinate in spades. In my defence, I also try to have all other distractions solved before I can concentrate on writing. My small theory is that to write for three hours, you need to feel like you have three days. To write for three days, you need to feel like you've got three weeks, and so on.

Disbelief held me down inside my footsteps, making my body heavy but my heart wild.

Competence was attractive.

You can do all manner of underhanded nice things when you have a caustic reputation.

She looks at the swings, and I can see she’s imagining what they’d look like if the kids weren’t there. The guilt of this holds her down momentarily. It appears to be there constantly. Never far away, despite her love for them. I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything.