“Yeah,it’s kind of a hobby. What’s yours? Kicking puppies?”

“Is this what you do with your spare time?” he asked me, ignoring his sister.“What—are you deciding to talk to me now?” Smiling tightly, I grabbed a handful of mulch and dumped it. Rinse and repeat. “Yeah, it’s kind of a hobby. What’s yours? Kicking puppies?”

“No, I wanna go kick puppies," she retorted.”

“Try looking at your mind as a wayward puppy that you are trying to paper train. You don't drop-kick a puppy into the neighbor's yard every time it piddles on the floor. You just keep bringing it back to the newspaper.”

“It’s strange how dreams get under your skin and give your heart a test for what’s real and what’s imaginary.”

“Any more packages for Solange?”“Twelve letters, three packages, and a box of puppies.”I winced. “Puppies?”“They’re fine. Isabeau took them all.”“Good. Who eats puppies?” I shook my head.“Yeah, Isabeau swore in French. A lot.”“Hot.”“Yeah, Logan nearly went cross-eyed.”"Chapter 12”