I stare at her for a long moment. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.

Is where you're from the place you're leaving or where you have roots?

I hate this bizarre policy of protective exclusion, because it effectively writes me off the page.

Why the hell shouldn't I run away with the circus?

I scan the room. Catherine is writing quickly, her light brown hair falling over her face. She is left-handed, and because she writes in pencil her left arm is silver from wrist to elbow.

The whole thing's illusion, [Jacob], and there's nothing wrong with that. It's what people want from us. It's what they expect.

I'm truly grateful for my microwave, which allows me to easily clarify butter, steam vegetables, and - when I am really lazy - feed my three kids in less than five minutes.