“In spite of all the red flags and signs that Marc had more baggage than Imelda Marcos taking shoes on vacation, I continued to date him.”

“I cannot have this Imelda Marcos woman beating me, whoever she is,’ Suki shrugged by way of explanation.”

“I walked up to the window, raised my palm and pressed it against the pane. It left a bloodied handprint. Through the red shape—my red flag, my riot sign—I could see Neil staring at me.”

“Marc had grown up, gotten away from the partying lifestyle that made him feel as if his mere presence was a gift to those around him and knew himself for what he'd truly been back then. A fool. Hopelessly in love with a friend who'd never wanted more from him than he'd already given. This weekend, Marc hoped to change that.”

“All of us...still believe that the American flag betokens a kind of general righteousness. But I say...that signs are signs and some of them are lies.”

“I have more baggage than baggage claim. I'm damaged goods. I'm not good at...” she released him for a moment and fingered between the two of them “this.” “Well, I think you're dancing just fine, Miss Gerhart.” he smirked. He knew that was not what she meant, but he had hoped to lighten their mood. Maybe if he could get her to relax she would give him a chance.”