Superstitions are man's way of trying to control things he has no control over.

He'd always been fascinated by her, drawn to her the way curious people are always drawn to things they don't understand.

I needed to stop being what everyone thought I was.

She'd assumed she'd be married and have kids by this age, that she would be grooming her own daughter for this, as her friends were doing. She wanted it so much she would dream about it sometimes, and then she would wake up with the skin at her wrists and neck red from the scratchy lace of the wedding gown she'd dreamed of wearing. But she'd never felt anything for the men she'd dated, nothing beyond her own desperation. And her desire to marry wasn't strong enough, would never be strong enough, to allow her to marry a man she didn't love.

It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon.

...she was still water in his hands. He didn't know how to hold on.

He reached out and pushed some hair behind her ears. The gesture was tender, but it hit her with an unexpected force, like when you're in the ocean and a wave hits you. It's so soft and coll that it surprised you that it has such strength.