Says The Girl With No Thyme.

He Wasn't What I'd Thought He Was; Maybe He Never Had Been. I Wasn't What I'd Thought I Was, Either.

I Think I'm Way Too Much Of A Control Freak To Co-author Anything With Anyone. I Have A Hard Enough Time Writing With Myself! I Admire People That Can Do It, But It's Not For Me.

And That Was It; It Was So Easy For Her. My Own Memories Did Not Even Belong To Me. But I Knew She Was Wrong. I Had Seen That Comet. I Knew It As Well As I Knew My Own Face, My Own Hands. My Own Heart.

There Were So Many People, So Much To Navigate, And As The Distance Fluctuated Between Us His Hand Kept Slipping, Down My Arm To My Wrist. And Maybe He Was Going To Let Go As People Pressed In On All Sides, But All I Could Think Was How When Nothing Made Sense And Hadn't For Ages, You Just Have To Grab Onto Anything You Feel Sure Of. So As I Felt His Fingers Loosening Around My Wrist, I Just Wrapped My Own Around Them, Right, And Held On

"which Is Completely Out-of-line Behavior. Then You Are Wholly Within Your Rights To Stomp On Their Foot." "no," Delia Said, Over Her Shoulder. "actually, You're Not. Just Excuse Yourself As Politely As Possible, And Get Out Of Arm's Reach." Kristy Looked At Me, Shaking Her Head. "stomp Them." She Said, Under Her Breath. "really."