Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.

The last time I saw her was red. The sky was like soup, boiling and stirring. In some places, it was burned. There were black crumbs, and pepper, streaked across the redness.

One was a book thief. The other stole the sky.

Usually we walk around constantly believing ourselves. "I'm okay" we say. "I'm alright". But sometimes the truth arrives on you and you can't get it off. That's when you realize that sometimes it isn't even an answer--it's a question. Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.

I am hunted by humans.

They'd been standing like that for thirty seconds of forever.

Because you don't learn anything unless you can find the patience to read. TV takes that away from you. It robs you from your mind.