You Looove Me. You Love Me This

Can I Come In? No! I'm In A Towel! I'm Blind!

I'm A Very Good Storyteller; I Have A Lot Of Compassion For People. That's Very Useful For A Novelist. A Lot Of Novelists Are Snots. They're Just Mean People. I'm Not A Terribly Skilled Stylist, Nor Do I Want To Be. I Want A Lot Of People To Read One Of My Stories And Go, 'that Was Pretty Cool.'

It’s Wherever You Are. If It’s Tapped Into Any Of Your Senses, It Knows Where You Are And What You’re Doing.” Oh No, I Thought, My Spirits Sinking. I Hadn’t Considered That. Did That Mean Nothing I Did Was Ever Anymore? “even In The Bathroom?” The Gasman’s Eyes Widened With Surprise.

I Hung My Head, And I Felt Someone, Fang, Gather Me Gently To Him. My Cheek Rested On His Shoulder, And My Silent Tears Soaked His Torn Shirt.he Felt Warm And Strong And Heartbreakingly Familiar. And At That Moment, Not A Single Thing In My Life Was Certain, Strong, Or Whole. Nothing. Least Of All Fang.

Time For Bed.” I Held My Fist Out. One By One, My Flock Stacked Theirs On Top, And Then We Headed Up Into The Trees To Sleep The Sleep Of The Innocent. Well, Okay, Maybe Not So Innocent. But The Sleep Of The Much Less Guilty Than Others, For Sure.