What if I was the sexual equivalent of popcorn? Suitable for light snacking only?
Anyway, I was the one in real danger. I got cornered by a pack of wild sorority girls in the food court. Apparently it’s mating season.
When he finally stopped calling, the hush felt strange. It felt like the whole world went silent when Marc did, as if I could see peoples mouths moving, but I couldnt hear what they were saying. Like I’d gone deaf.
So, you reap souls and crush hopes? Is that part of the job, or just a service you offer for free?
So you’re saying the afterlife is hard on the libido? FYI, that’s probably not a good bullet point for your recruiting brochure.
He’s not like you, Tod. Aside from a couple of notable exceptions, you tend to think things through, but Nash is ruled by his heart –.
It would be so much easier if there were a secret password, or handshake. Netherworld, open sesame! Yeah, that didn’t work, either.
Talking. According to Marc, I could talk the color off a crayon.
Unfortunately, unless the job description included a translation of the prologue of The Canterbury Tales, I was dreadfully under-qualified.
A smart woman would have shut up. Did I? Hell no. Intelligence is overrated anyway.
I should have mixed something stronger than Coke floats.
How is it wrong to put everything you have into getting what you want most in the world?
You should be careful, tossing descriptors like that around in a situation like this. My ‘problem’ isn’t little. Unless you’re drawing some pretty wild comparisons. Please tell me you’re not drawing wild comparisons. Or blood-relative comparisons.
Now if you’ll excuse me, Death waits for no man. Except me.
Just FYI, in your case, I think it’s okay to fear the reaper.
The problem with getting everything you want in life is that you’re not prepared for disappointment when it comes.
His safety was more important than anything to me. Even if he would never know enough to understand that.
I held her tighter, just because I could. Because she was fierce, and beautiful, and mind.
I want you, Kaylee, like I’ve never wanted anything. Ever. I want the fire. I want the heat, and the light, and I want the burn.
I realized that I’d rather die with you than live with someone else.
There was just no good way for a dead son to greet his mother almost two weeks after his funeral.