I'm sort of...coming off a bad relationship," "When did it end?" "Slightly before it started.

Why are they doing that?” his mother said, frowning at her grandsons. The boys were sorting the casserole into piles on their plates. “Doing what?” Eve asked. “Why aren’t they eating their food?” “They don’t like it when things touch,” Eve said. “What things?” his mother asked. “Their food. They don’t like it when different foods touch or mix together.” “How do you serve dinner, in ice cube trays?

It had taken years to put themselves back together, and so what if some things didn’t get put back in the right place? At least they could hold themselves up.

Cath felt like she was swimming in words. Drowning in them, sometimes.

You’re a sad little hermit, and it creeps me out.

You know?" he repeated. She smiled, so he kissed her. "You're not the Han Solo in this relationship, you know." "I'm totally the Han Solo," she whispered. It was good to hear her. It was good to remember it was Eleanor under all this new flesh. "Well, I'm not the Princess Leia," he said. "Don't get so hung up on gender roles," Eleanor said.” ... “You can be Han Solo," he said, kissing her throat. "And I'll be Boba Fett. I'll cross the sky for you.

Sometimes writing is running downhill, your fingers jerking behind you on the keyboard the way your legs do when they can’t quite keep up with gravity.