“I surround myself with salt, so it soaks up the humidity from my steamy solo love making sessions.”

“I sat up in bed. My T-shirt was soaking wet. My pillow was wet. My hair was wet. And my room was sticky and humid.”

“I want to tear myself from this place, from this reality, rise up like a cloud and float away, melt into this humid summer night and dissolve somewhere far, over the hills. But I am here, my legs blocks of concrete, my lungs empty of air, my throat burning. There will be no floating away.”

“I blinked at him. "What does salt have to do with any of this?""It protects you from evil.""Salt?" Disbelief all but dripped from my voice. I couldn't help it. "Table salt? How is seasoning myself going to help? This isn't a dinner party.”

“I eat fog for breakfast, and I shit out steamy love scenes from the 80s.”

“From now on, I would surround myself with people who loved me, not people who hated me.”