I remember the stink of corruption. It had a kind of sweetness to it, a sweetness that'd make you want to hurl.

I always knew this story would break my heart

I somehow knew, in that moment, that Grace Town was a jagged piece of glass that I'd cut myself on again and again if I let myself get involved with her. That the way forward would be pockmarked by sadness and grief and jealousy.

A smile leaked from behind the boy’s somber face, and then the thing withered like a little flower growing someplace infirm.

I've never been the most important person to anybody - not even myself.

I am not a criminal while my love is my only crime.