“I nod like I’m listening,like we’re communicating, and she never knows the difference.”

“It’s like someone who prays every night saying God’s a good listener. Just because you’re talking to us doesn’t mean we’re listening. With me and God, you never really know.”

“Dream dialogue: 
-Don’t cry. I, too, know what it’s like to be different.
-But I’m not different. I’m normal, I’m average, and that’s why I’m crying.”

“I feel like I’m holding my breath all the time, never knowing when my lungs will just give up. The air we’re supposed to breathe is up above – I can feel it.”

“So,” she says slowly, reviewing my case item by item, “you like ice holes, sinkholes, peepholes and blowholes?” I nod. “But not loopholes?” I nod again. Hole this, hole that – even when I’m determined not to just be myself, I’m such an asshole. I just can’t help it.”

“Aw, come on, admit it—you feel like Cinderella, don’t you?” “No, Darren, I don’t. And do you know why?” “No, sugar, you tell me why.” “Because I’m a man. I’ve got a big fat one and I like to fuck other guys.” Darren was laughing over the phone now, and it made Reece grin. “And Ben isn’t a prince, he’s a cop. A big, sexy cop who fucks like a machine. He’s a man. I’m a man. We’re men.” He nodded sharply. “Now fuck off. I’m arranging flowers.”