I really like being able to laugh at my own jokes.

Black as night, sweet as sin.

A short story is the ultimate close-up magic trick -- a couple of thousand words to take you around the universe or break your heart.

However you must have sensed a lurking 'but' skulking beneath my happy, blithe, and chipper exterior. A minuscule vexation, like the teeniest lump of raw liver sticking to the inside of my boot.

The squirrel has not yet found the acorn that will grow to the oak that will be cut to form the cradle of the babe that will grow to slay me.

Potentially evil. Potentially good, too, I suppose. Just this huge powerful potentiality waiting to be shaped.

He felt her heart beating against his chest. The moment began to transmute, and he wondered if there was something he should do. He wondered if he should kiss her. He wondered if he wanted to kiss her, and he realized that he truly didn't know.