Miss Hayes, have you stopped to consider that you might have this all backward? That in fact you are my fantasy?

Geric," she called. He turned back around. "What kind of flowers were they?" "I don't rightly know," he said. He made faltering gestures with his hands, forming their size and shape from the air. "They were yellow, and smallish, and had lots of petals." "Thank you," she said. "They were beautiful.

You've been quiet lately...but it's not so much the quiet as something inside the quiet.

If we're mad, we're mad in large numbers, at least larger than yours.

Even the jerks earn some of our affection. We can be glad they're gone and yet still mourn the good parts.

My friends call me by my name." "You don't have any friends." "I don't want you to be my friend, Selia, or my servant, not now. I thought you were both. You have let me know I was wrong. So are you to treat me so. You are wrong.

And new, too. Remade. Ready to move again. Listening was the start, she decided. Doing was the next step.