Sounds—the stretched-out, far-off kind—drift through the halls, and I close my eyes, trying to break them down.

There's nothing quite as good as folding up into a book and shutting the world outside.If I pick the right one I can be beautiful, or fall in love, or live happily ever after. Maybe even all three.

There was an abyss opening up between them, cutting through whatever they’d shared on the train.

Her heartbeat picks up, her pulse fluttering through her neck and wrists. She loves this part, loves the moment before she pulls off a job—the heat, the cold, the rush. It’s terrifying and delicious, like teetering out over the edge of a building, her fingers tight on the safety railing. She can see how everything could go horribly wrong, but that rational part of her is tamped down, silenced by the beauty of the fall.

Waking up the next morning was torture. I dragged myself to the bathroom feeling like I'd been thrown against a brick wall. Repeatedly. By the Hulk.

I'm just as big a fool as the rest of them.