Tears were frozen to the book theif's face.

She looks at the swings, and I can see she’s imagining what they’d look like if the kids weren’t there. The guilt of this holds her down momentarily. It appears to be there constantly. Never far away, despite her love for them. I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything.

When we move apart, she looks at me again, till a small tear lifts itself up in her eye. It trips out to find a wrinkle and follows it down.

It's not the place, I think. It's the people. We'd have all been the same anywhere else.

So much good, so much evil. Just add water.

I want words at my funeral. But I guess that means you need life in your life.

The thrill of being ignored!