Well, what now? You have no job. I have no job. Wanna play Jenga?

We're going to die," Keith said, the moment he was gone. "This man is a serial killer. We're going to die, and he's going to bury us in his garden and build a shed on us.

I am a mass of contradictions.

Having your back scratched is not the only reason to be married, but it is a good one, especially for those spots that are so hard to reach by yourself.

No one hid their interest when I walked into the room. I'm not sure if it was the news about Boo or my general appearance. At home, people would have asked. People would have been crawling all over me for information. At Wexford, they seemed to extract what they wanted to know by covert staring.

English rain feels obligatory, like paperwork. It dampens already damn days and slicks the stones.

They weren't pressed together as closely as normal, but his shoulder bumped hers, then remained there. It was very subtle, and possibly even accidental, but it was enough.