Wine Is Bottled Poetry, He Thinks.

I Have Absurdly Vivid Dreams.

And Then He Tells Her Stories. Myths He Learned From His Instructor. Fantasies He Created Himself, Inspired By Bits And Pieces Of Others Read In Archaic Books With Crackling Spines.

Even The Air Feels Different On Halloween, Autumn-crisp And Bright.

I Do Not See As Well Without Her. I Do Not Hear As Well Without Her. I Do Not Feel As Well Without Her. I Would Be Better Off Without A Hand Or A Leg Than Without My Sister.

Do You Remember All Of Your Audiences?" Marco Asks. "not All Of Them," Celia Says. "but I Remember The People Who Look At Me The Way You Do." "what Way Might That Be?" "as Though They Cannot Decide If They Are Afraid Of Me Or They Want To Kiss Me." " I Am Not Afraid Of You," Marco Says.