“The smell was like chocolate and cookies and biscuits and gravy and everything else that was delicious. It damn near drove me crazy every time I had to touch one. I’d been fighting the cravings the way I’d never fought the urge to take drugs or get drunk.”

“I’d never touched alcohol—doesn’t mix too well with crazy pills—but I knew at that moment what it must feel like to be drunk. Everything in my world shifted, and I knew I would trade every breath I’d ever taken for more of him. In a heartbeat.”

“If I could store any character quality in a cookie jar, I’d store patience. Chocolate-chip patience cookies. And I’d eat them all at one sitting.”

“… as well as a tiny brown glass vial of perfumed oil. It smelled of violets and chocolate. Yeah, like i needed the zombies to find me any more delicious. That'd be like a cow wearing 'eau de gravy'.”

“I felt electric when he touched me. I’d had crushes before; when your body melts and tingles but this was different. It was like a magnetic pull. Every cell in my body pulled toward him. It was almost uncomfortable but I found myself craving another touch.”

“Once, this had been the life I’d wanted. Even chosen. Now, though, I couldn’t believe that there had been a time when this kind of monotony and silence, this most narrow of existences, had been preferable. Then again, once, I’d never known anything else.”