Youth and age, she thought. Beginnings and endings, connections and constancy. And, love. She snapped the embrace, but that wasn’t it. She snapped the glitter of tears, and still, no. Then Alison lowered her forehead to her grandmother’s, and even as her lips curved, a single tear slid down her cheek while the dress glowed and glittered behind them. Perfect. The blue butterfly.
Love can really screw you up before you learn to live with it.
She’s in love, and that makes her strong. She’ll need to be.”
“What makes you strong, Mia?”
“Purpose. Love never worked for me.
My mother says happy ever after’s a bunch of bull.
We’re going to get a couple pretty, fluffy inches in the morning for a gorgeous December evening wedding. Go get ready for rehearsal.
They wouldn’t grow up together, but could grow old together. They
It was bad enough to be swallowed up by the intrinsic anger of New York City traffic and its seemingly mad competition between cars, cabs, the ubiquitous delivery trucks, the kamikaze bike messengers and the always-in-a-damn hurry pedestrians.
The need to take her was raging, some fatal drug that stabbed into his veins, speeding up his heartbeat and clouding his mind.
What good are laws if they’re not human?