I Think My Writing Has Become "cleaner."

The Only Way Someone Can Leave You Is If You Let Them.

Then Henry Speaks Again. "did He Do It?" I Turn To Him Slowly. "does It Matter?

I Realize How Quickly Lies Compound. They Cover Like A Coat Of Paint, One On Top Of The Other, Until You Cannot Remember What Color You Started With.

There's Some Illogical Part Of Me That Still Believes If You Want Superman To Show Up, First There's Got To Be Someone Worth Saving.

All Any Of Us Wanted, Really, Was To Know That We Counted. That Someone Else's Life Would Not Have Been As Rich Without Us Here.