What Happens When You Lose Your Heart's

Once People Start Throwing Wet Stuff, I Go Inside.

I Was An Empty Shell. Like A Vacant House―condemned―for Months I'd Been Utterly Uninhabitable. Now I Was A Little Improved. The Front Room Was In Better Repair. But That Was All―just The One Small Piece. He Deserved Better Than That―better Than A One-room, Falling-down Fixer-upper. No Amount Of Investment On His Part Could Put Me Back In Working Order.

So What You're Saying Is, I'm Your Brand Of Heroin?" I Teased, Trying To Lighten The Mood. He Smiled Swiftly, Seeming To Appreciate My Effort. "yes, You Are Exactly My Brand Of Heroin.

Hey, Rosalie? Do You Know How To Drown A Blonde? Stick A Mirror To The Bottom Of A Pool.

I Like It When Pessimism Goes Unrewarded.