I’ve been dead for seven years, that’s as warm as they get.
The most dangerous and wonderful creature alive is the human.
Did no one tell him that pain lives in this sand, dug in and watered with our blood?
Dory is what Mum used to call a “strong-looking woman,” which means that, from the back, she looked like a man, and, from the front, you preferred the back.
I fell asleep to the scent of my wolf. Pine needles, cold rain, earthy perfume, coarse bristles on my face.
She screamed, the high scream that was neither human nor animal but something terrible in between, the sort of sound that you never forget no matter how many beautiful things you hear afterward.
His wife’s a brand of Christian that forbids a gathering that involves young women dancing in the streets but not races where men die.
I try very hard to keep my eyes from darting to Sean because I’m quite certain that no one will be able to miss how I look at him and how I find him looking back.
I sense that his drowning but I don’t have any idea of how to start to put my hand into the water and save him.
He asked for a specific. I gave him a specific. I’m sorry it wasn’t puppies.
I was wild and tame and pulled into shreds and crushed into being all at once.
Taking risks is not being suicidal. Otherwise, skydivers need serious help.
Ronan kept staring at Whelk. He was good at staring. There was something about his stare that took something from the other person.
I felt a tickle on my skin; it took me a moment to realize that Cole was driving his die-cast Mustang up my arm. He was laughing to himself, hushed and infectious, as if there was still any reason to be quite.
She doesn’t know any better, what a girl like her needs is a man with both his legs on the land. A man who will hold her down so that she doesn’t fly away. She doesn’t know yet that someone like you looks better on the shelf than in your hand.
I whisper like the sea in the horse’s ear.
It was possible that I’d thrown one too many Molotov cocktails over God’s fence.
Sam reached his hand toward mine and I automatically put my fingers in his.
The truth is, until you know any different, the island is enough. Actually, I know different. And it’s still enough.
The walls of the arch are covered with blood-red jellies that wink and glisten at me by the light of the moon. My father told me they were completely harmless. I don’t believe him. Nothing is completely harmless.