“Going through a tragedy leaves an impression on people’s souls. Once you’ve had a loss, you learn to deal with it and move on, but you carry that hurt with you always" - Yara Silva `Intrinsical”

“Hey look, Yara, there’s someone driving the car.”“Ha, ha,” Cherie grumbled. “You two haven’t come upfor air since we picked Yara up from the airport.”“Circle the block,” Brent instructed. “I’m not donekissing her yet.”

“So, Yara brings Brent home to meet her parents, and he ends up in the E.R.”

“Please be careful. Know that if somethinghappened to you, you wouldn’t be the only one hurt.”

“A few minutes after discovering we had a goal but no plan, Brent was laughing heartily at a pathetic joke I had made. It reminded me of the firstday on campus when I had thought his laughter sounded like a melody. It did now, even more so. It was music, beautiful, in a manly way, like asensual, slow jazz. I loved jazz.“Jazz, huh?” Brent asked, his voice suddenly husky.“Uh . . . what?”“My laugh reminds you of jazz? Is there anything about me you don’t find attractive?” He rubbed his hand over his lips trying to cover his smirk.“So tell me, how much do you love jazz?”I’m sure my face was pinker than the inside of a watermelon. “I didn’t say any of that.”“You didn’t have to say it, Yara, I could hear it.” Brent tapped the side of his head. “I can hear your thoughts.”“You’re not serious.”“Oh, but I am,” he said, completely straight-faced.”

“Something horrible had happened here, and had left it's residue behind. It seemed to rise from the bottom of the tiled pool and leak from the ceiling, clinging to the walls and binding itself like some parasite into any host it could ensnare. I imagined it's cold fingers rooting inside me, spreading throughout, and leaving traces of itself embedded in my soul.”

“I don't want any part of this. The whole thing kinda freaked me out. I'm sure girls always do what you tell them because you're hot, Brent, but I'm just not that interested."His head perked up with a wide smiled. "You think I'm hot?”