If you turned the fabric of our lives over, I imagined the design on the backside would be woven in the bleak grays of doubt and fear.

Sometimes I think you like me better as a wolf." "Sometimes I do. It probably has something to do with the way you CAN'T TALK.

Stop it, Mom, you're making me blush.

You haven’t changed at all. I expected a perceptible difference, but here you are, red-faced just like always.

Forever," he vowed, still a little staggered. "That's all I'm asking for," I said.

I knew it would begin with the end, and the end would look like death to these eyes. I had been warned.

Well… don’t be offended, but you smell like a dog.