“On the stage Tristen bent over the piano, his fingers swift and sure, his blond hair gleaming under the spotlight. I glanced around at the audience, watching their faces, gratified that they were as captivated as I was by the dark, thunderous song that Tristen conjured.”

“Every word from Kismet’s mouth sounded like poetry spoken with the most fervent passion one could conjure up. I couldn’t understand how he could stand to have such intensity building inside him. I watched, captivated by each breath in between his words. I found myself tracing the lines of his face over and over and leaning into him.”

“Then the musical instruments appeared. Dad’s snare drum from the house, Henry’s guitar from his car, Adam’s spare guitar from my room. Everyone was jamming together, singing songs: Dad’s songs, Adam’s songs, old Clash songs, old Wipers songs. Teddy was dancing around, the blond of his hair reflecting the golden flames. I remember watching it all and getting that tickling in my chest and thinking to myself: This is what happiness feels like.”

“I watched his fingers clench and unclench, and I wondered if he was dreaming that they were wrapped around my neck.”

“He smiled and bent forward, a hand on each knee, his truculence gleaming through his smile like a stone under water.”

“-I'll play you a song.Blake flexed his fingers and concentrated harder on the cardboard, moving his hands methodically over it's surface.What do you say after an imaginary concert? Livia watched as the song came to a close with his careful plucking a certain keys on the cardboard. She couldn't help but glance to see if the commuters were staring.-I couldn't hear that, but your hands looked beautiful.-Of course not. It's not plugged in.Blake smiled, then watched as she didn't get his joke.”