Her teeth were like a soccer crowd, crammed in.

You can kill a man with those words. No gun. No bullets. Just words and a girl.

I'd rather chase the sun than wait for it.

I had to decide what I was going to do, and what I was going to be. I was standing there, waiting for someone to do something , till I realised the person I was waiting for was myself.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't be asking such things...' She let the sentence die its own death

Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It's the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me.

Is there cowardice with the acknowledgement of fear?