it goes something like 'There are a lot of ways to be yourself.

He didn't look insane or inhuman. He did look uncooperative.

But it was equally clear to her that this was her fate, that she had called its name and it had come to her, and she could do nothing now but own it.

So, what do you do when you know you have two days to live? Eat an entire Bitter Chocolate Death cake all by myself. Reread my favorite novel. Buy eight dozen roses from the best florist in town--the super expensive ones, the ones that smell like roses rather than merely looking like them--and put them all over my apartment. Take a good long look at everyone I love.

She fell asleep, leaning on his chest, and he edged her a little off a particularly painful bruise, leaned his head back against the tree he had propped them up against, and closed his own eyes.

Tiny fists can hurt quite a lot when they hit you in the face.

It seems to me further, that it is very odd that fate should leave so careful a trail, and spend so little time preparing the one that must follow it.