I Don't Have Any Leeches On My

Eight Full Lives,” I Whispered Against His Jaw, My Voice Breaking. “eight Full Lives And I Never Found Anyone I Would Stay On A Planet For, Anyone I Would Follow When They Left. I Never Found A Partner. Why Now? Why You? You're Not Of My Species. How Can You Be My Partner?” “it's A Strange Universe,” He Murmured. “it's Not Fair,” I Complained, Echoing Sunny's Words. It Wasn't Fair. How Could I Find This, Find Love–now, In This Eleventh Hour–and Have To Leave It? Was It Fair That My Soul And Body Couldn't Reconcile? Was It Fair That I Had To Love Melanie, Too?

It Makes Me . . . Anxious . . . To Be Away From You.

His Voice Was Like Honey And Velvet. "death, That Hath Sucked The Honey Of Thy Breath, Hath Had No Power Yet Upon Thy Beauty," He Murmured, And I Recognized The Line Spoken By Romeo In The Tomb.

Storytelling Was The Most Honored Of All Talents, For It Benefited Everyone.

More Than My Own Life