They were glued down, every last one of them. A packet of souls. Was it fate?Misfortune?Is that what glued them down like that?Of course not.Let's not be stupid.It probably had more to do with the hurled bombs, thrown down by humans hiding in the clouds.

It was a style not of perfection, but warmth. Even mistakes had a good feeling about them

It's not a big thing, but I guess it's true--big things are often just small things that are noticed.

The happening that happened was that I met this girl.

His soul sat up. It met me. Those kinds of souls always do - the best ones. The ones who rise up and say "I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come." Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places.

She took a step and didn't want to take any more, but she did.

I'm having bigger problems when I'm writing.