They were absolutely lovely, and in their presence, so was she.
I was supposed to write a romantic comedy, but my characters broke up.
What you leave behind is the people you loved. You leave yourself in them.
They were the sisterhood: their mothers at a younger age.
Not everyone got a close family. Not everyone needed one.
How could you cleanse yourself if you couldn’t forget?
When she is happy, she can’t stop talking, when she is sad she doesn’t say a word.
She hadn’t chosen the brave life. She’d chosen the small, fearful one.