“They looked at each other like a pair of parentheses.”

“Once more, this is love: it rings and you open up unless it looks like an ax murderer.”

“I liked, I admit, that we didn’t pretend there hadn’t been other girls. There was always a girl on you in the halls at school, like they came free with a backpack.”

“This is love if it's not with you, a terrible fiery something that makes people look away, and it feels like a punch in the throat.”

“How wrong to think I was anyone else, like thinking grass stains make you a beautiful view, like getting kissed makes you kissable, like feeling warm makes you coffee, like liking movies makes you a director. How utterly incorrect to think it any other way, a box of crap is treasures, a boy smiling means it, a gentle moment is a life improved.”

“...I looked for a scrape in my reflection and then, meeting my own eyes, stood for a sec and tried to figure, like all girls in all mirrors everywhere, the difference between lover and slut.”

“The matches were a little 'he loves me, he loves me not,' but then I saw right on the box that I had twenty-four, which would end the game at not, so I just let the small handful sparkle and puff a bit, each one a thrill, a tiny delicious jolt for each part I remembered, until I burned my finger and went back in still thinking of all we did together.”