Jerome sighed and set down his fork. "Are you still doing that, Georgie? Don't I suffer enough without having to endure the humiliation of a succubus who moonlights as a Christmas elf?" "You always said I should quit the bookstore and find something else to do," I reminded him. "Yes, but that was because I thought you'd go on to do something respectable. Like become a stripper or the Mayor's mistress.

ʺThe contractʹs null and void, by the way.ʺ

I was so tired of being told reasonable, practical things whenever something went wrong with my life.

This is very domestic of you," he said. "It's kinda hot, really. Giving me all sorts of fantasies about you in an apron vacuuming my house.

Don't be sorry you loved him. That's part of you, part you have to let go.

You destroy my life then feed me inspirational philosophy.

That's what humanity is: a series of successes and failures, a testing of one's own nature and aptitude. Neither the body nor the soul can sustain such a state. Eventually it consumes a person