“Is it fucked?" I asked.She nodded."Cancer." She whispered it so lightly I almost didn't hear. Then the word flew over and smacked me.”

“She whispers in my ear: ‘"Tell me that you wan' fuck me hard, make me sweat." In the excitement, she misses out a word. "I want to fuck you so hard that your body drips with sweat," I say, grammatically.”

“So many answers flew through her mind that she didn't know which to pick, aside from the obvious truth that "my drug dealers enforcer and his rival who I used to fuck" was definitely not it.”

“I'm graduating and she corrected my vocabulary the other day. I said I felt nauseous, and she said the word I wanted was nauseated. Fucked me up, bro. Didn't know there was a difference.”

“She said things and I nodded. I didn't pay attention. She didn't pay attention to me. We floated through our days in that way.”

“You ever hear a dog cry, Steve? You know, howling so loud it's almost unbearable?' He nodded. 'I reckon they howl like that because they're so hungry it hurts, and that's what I feel in me every day of my life. I'm so hungry to be somethin' - to be somebody. You hear me?' He did. 'I'm not lyin' down ever. Not for you. Not for anyone.' I ended it. 'I'm hungry, Steve.'Sometimes I think they're the best words I've ever said.'I'm hungry.”