“An anonymous death in a small town, that’s a different thing. It makes people uneasy. They stop gossiping, talk only with trusted friends, or—realizing that nobody can truly be trusted—they don’t talk at all. Instead of settling in the streets or running through the municipal sewer system, murder moves inside. It becomes internalized. It seeps around the corners of locked front doors. It creeps into people’s bedrooms. It runs in their veins.”

“The sign on the front door explaining what kind of meeting:NA-NARCOTICS ANONYMOUSSomeone had attached a sticky note that said: EMPHASIS ON THE A, PEOPLE!Ty didn't know wheather to be amused that only in Lucky Harbor would the extra note be necessary, or appalled that the town was trusted with the anonymous at all.”

“Death disapearance was what you didnt talk about. like a sewer running under the street, the shit was down there, out of sight, but you could smell it, it didnt go away, it didnt vanish”

“But people in a small town tend to do a lot of talking, even when they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.”

“I’m tired of running … This is the only thing that’s real. Don’t run from me, Tiny Dancer.”