Is there cowardice with the acknowledgement of fear?

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

My arms are killing me. I didn't know words could be so heavy.

She didn't dare to look up, but she could feel their frightened eyes hanging onto her as she hauled the words in and breathed them out. A voice played the notes inside her. This, it said, is your accordion.

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

When I find research really rewarding is when one piece of information gives you an idea for a story. That's when it's great.

an expression of surprise falls from her face, though she's trying to keep it. it breaks off and she seems to catch it and fidget with it in her hands.