“My mother's hope is a weapon.”

“My jealousy is a living thing. Shifting, changing, growing. Like my rage and my mother's regret.”

“I wished that my hand would work again," I tell him when he climbs in after me. it was my first wish and the only one that mattered."I wished my mother was here tonight, which is stupid, because it's an impossible wish." He shrugs and turns to me, drowning the smile that cracks me every time."It's not stupid to want to see her again.""It wasn't so much that I wanted to see her again, " he says, looking at me with the depth of more than seventeen years in his eyes. "I wanted her to see you.”

“I wished my mother was here tonight, which is stupid, because it’s an impossible wish.” He shrugs and turns to me, drowning the smile that cracks me every time. “It’s not stupid to want to see her again.” “It wasn’t so much that I wanted to see her again,” he says, looking at me with the depth of more than seventeen years in his eyes. “I wanted her to see you.”

“My phone is on my bed, whispering in my ear like a bottle of scotch to a recovering alcoholic, while the rain continues cackling at me through my window.”

“I took my schedule, my map, and my abject horror and made my way to class, reading it again and again as I went. Unfortunately it stayed the same every time.”

“...my closet and I are on my own. My closet is of no use to me. It may actually be laughing at me. It's true, I hear it.”