“The more this guy talked, the more he sounded like a fortune cookie.”

“You're not very good at being contemplative," Milo said. "You always sound like some bad caricature of a philosopher, like those fortune cookies with 'Confucius say' or the Nietzsche guy from Mystery Men that's always saying 'when you walk on the ground, the ground walks on you.”

“The thoughts just before the event are like the fortune in the cookie. The fortune's as random as the thought.”

“Gee, thanks." I couldn't sound more sarcastic, but I was willing to give it a try. My breathing evened out. "What are you here for, then? Tea and cookies?" My mouth wanted to water. He smelled like cookies. Cinnamon ones, with dabs of apple-pie filling.”

“I tucked this thought inside me like a fortune into a cookie.”

“More of a cookie person, myself. No offense to the other baked goods. I just like cookies.”