If You Don't Read For Pleasure, You'll

When Somebody Walks Out, It Leaves A Hole In You. Some People Fill It Up, The Good And The Bad, And Get On That Way. Some People Leave It Open, Maybe Long Enough To Heal, Maybe Too Long, Picking At It Now And Then So It Doesn't Heal All The Way.

He Sipped His Coffee, Watched The Flames. "you Gave Me My Life, You Did," He Insisted When Summerset Made A Protesting Sound. "and I Worked-in My Fashion- To Build This Place. I Asked You To Tend It For Me. You've Never Let Me Down. But I Needed Her. The One Thing, The Only Thing That Could Make This Place Home." "she's Not What I Would Have Chosen For You" "oh, That I Know" "but She's Right For You. The One For You." Despite, Or Maybe Due To, Her Many Flaws" "i Imagine She Thinks The Same Thing About You". Memory In Death, Roarke And Summerset

I Didn't Get Fired." "you Didn't Punch Your Boss And Get Fired From The Tribune? That's What I Heard." "i Punched What Could Loosely Be Called A Colleague For Cribbing My Notes On A Story And Since The Editor–who Happened To Be The Asshole's Uncle–took His Word Over Mine, I Quit." "to Write Books. Is It Fun?" "i Guess It Is." "i Bet You Killed The Asshole In The First One You Wrote." "you'd Be Right. Beat Him To Death With A Shovel. Very Satisfying.

You--roarke." Eyes Watering, She Reached For More Tissue. "jesus, Eve. Jesus Christ, You Never Sleep With Anybody. And You're Telling Me You Slept With Roarke?" "that's Not Precisely Accurate. We Didn't Sleep.

He Decided There Was No Point In Telling Her He'd Looked In The Fridge And Seen None Of These Things. There'd Just Be Some Variation Of His Mother's Standard Crack About Male Refrigeration Blindness Syndrome.