“Bongo's sobs are hurled outlike paintballs from a skirmish gununtil the force diminishesinto a trickle of sobsthat wind up the exorcism.”
“A breath of steam trickles out, filled with the sobs of a grown woman breaking into girl-sized pieces.”
“I threw up after my first skirmish, too.”
“Ah, not to be cut off,not through the slightest partitionshut out from the law of the stars.The inner -- what is it?if not the intensified sky,hurled through with birds and deepwith the winds of homecoming.”
“Oh, by the way, Chuck, I spilled tea on your bongos.”
“But love is much like a dam; if you allow a tiny crack to form through which only a trickle of water can pass, that trickle will quickly bring down the whole structure and soon no one will be able to control the force of the current.”