Sometimes you have to embrace the darkness to stop it.
Flesh, blood, bone--the body is only a container for who we truly are inside.
Call it sentimentality. Call it curiosity. Just don't call it madness.
No serum can vhange who you are. Nor should you change. Genius or madness--it al depends on who's telling the story.
Believing in nothing except the truth of Montgomery, who for all his faults was as steady as the sea, as honest as the sun. My eyes watered with unexpected tears, and I kissed him harder, desperately. It wasn't a happy ending.
The heel of Montgomery’s boot tapped nervously against the floor, as if he knew he was a bad liar. “I can’t say how he’ll take the news at first. He can be unpredictable, but in the end he’ll be glad you came.” He leaned forward, blue eye...
I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. Montgomery had gotten the flowers. Sometime yesterday he’d picked wild flowers like he used to when we’d visit cousins in the country.
For a moment, he rested his hand on the pitchfork, breath ragged. Strands of hair escaped the ponytail and fell over his eyes, making him look wild, untamed. He’d changed so much from that quiet boy. He’d had to, growing up with monsters as playm...
The ways of men and women are such a puzzle. And I could barely decipher my own feelings, let along anyone else's.
