“Have I come at a bad time?" she managed to say without guffawing. I believe I said something on the order of "argh," and compounded my embarrassment by trying to cover myself with the sweatpants I'd picked up off the floor. ”

“He looked up at me without saying a word. I tried to hold it together but I could feel myself breaking as I fell to the floor, my face in my hands – tears flowing down my cheeks. For the first time in a while I felt like I was truly losing a hold of myself.”

“Woman! Come out! I have—" She looked down at the bloodless grass, embarrassed. "I have come to rescue you," she finally said, as if admitting that she were covered in boils.”

“I'd address his way of trying to discourage Ian later. After all, he could have come up with something other than saying I was a whiny, smelly, trumpet-snoring bad lay.”

“Thomas! What are you doing!" and I gestured, "I thought this was Nothing," covering myself with one of my daybooks ,and she said, "It's Something!”

“What the hell do you have on?”Emily looked down at her ensemble. “I have done something wrong, haven't I?”“Did Tinker put you up to this?”“Well, she said it was my manager uniform.”“You...you look like an oversexed librarian.”She blinked. “Is that a bad thing?”