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

Our footsteps run, and I don't want them to end. I want to run and laugh and feel like this forever. I want to avoid any awkward moment when the realness of reality sticks its fork into our flesh, leaving us standing there, together. I want to stay here, in this moment, and never go to other places, where we don't know what to say or what to do.

We expressed love for this dog by ... knowing without showing that we cared for him.

My own eyes try to sleep, but they don't. They stay wide awake as time snarls forward and silence drops down, like measured thought.

I read some books that were the right books for me. I read them and I didn't even notice turning the pages anymore. I thought, "That's what I want to do with my life."

If you ever write a book, I can only give you one piece of advice. Don't let your parents get involved.

He prefers not to ruin things with any more questions. What it is is what it is.