Elisabeth Wheatley

“Ah, yes, pink camo,” I murmur, gesturing my chin at her tank top and hoodie. “Because you never know when you’ll have to hide in a bubblegum factory.”

“Good grief. They're like the freaking poster family for the NRA.”

“If wishes were horses, what the heck would I need wishes for?”

“It's obviously not impossible, because it's happening...”

“...Death is often as cruel in his asceticism as he is in his greed.”