“I don’t know when I’ll get to send you another balloon. I know it probably won’t get to you. You’ve never answered and I know that even if you got my letters, you could never write back.”

“I know that you’re just in a hole in the ground. I know that you’re long gone. I don’t even know why I write you these letters anymore. Probably to feel closer to you. I’ve never stopped loving you. There have been other girls, besides you, but you’ve never had competition. My mind always drifted back to the sweet little girl with glittering eyes.”

“She was hurt, Artie. And I don’t think I could tell you how scared I was. It was like watching a flashback of you, dying. I couldn’t protect you. And I couldn’t watch that again.”

“I need someone to talk to. Well, not exactly talk. I need someone to listen.”

“I love you. Yes, you’ve heard that before, heard it a million times, but I don’t know what else to say.” He lifted a hand to my face and touched my cheek. “I need you. This last year, when you were gone, it was hell. I made up my mind that when you came back, I’d do whatever it took to get you back. No more tricks. No more tantrums. I know I didn’t do a great job. Hell, you probably never noticed the difference. But I was trying. I’ll keep trying. Come back home with me. Please.”

“Megan noisily sucked in air for a scream that froze in her lungs. The cat stood in front of the open fire escape window, tail twitching, eyes focused intently on her face. Cursing inwardly at the stupidity of leaving the window open even a little bit, she made a mental note to never do it again…if she lived.The sheer size of the body under that sleek black coat was breathtaking, not to mention the power evident in those muscles. Megan whimpered as she caught sight of the sharp claws just visible on its feet. “Holy crap, someone up there has a really sick sense of humor. When I said I should get a cat, this is not what I meant!” she whispered. The cat snorted and her heart lodged in her throat.”

“dear J: I feel lucky that I didn’t fuck you the first time we met in Houston, but luckier that I didn’t fuck you the last time we met in San Francisco. this is the answer to your letter even though I don’t know if you’ll ever read it. the words are yours but I’ll get credit for the poem. you see, it could never have worked, the way I am. B.”