“Was he supposed to let Fiona cry on his shoulder now? He hated being the shoulder. He never knew what to say or do.Pat, pat, there, there. What the f--k?”

“Regweld is really a fine wizard," he continued, patting the shoulder again. "And his ideas for crossbreeding a horse and a frog are not without merit; never mind the explosion! Alchemy shops can be replaced!”

“Do what the Buddhists do. Every day, have a little bird on your shoulder that asks, 'Is today the day? Am I read? Am I doing all I need to do? Am I being the person i want to be?'" He turned his head to his shoulder as if the bird were there now. "Is today the day I die?" he said.”

“He shrugged his shoulders, like he had no idea what I was talking about. I loved that.”

“He glanced beside him then patted at his round shoulders. “Want to come up here?” “What, on your shoulders?” He grinned and shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Everyone else is doing it.” The idea of a 5’9” girl sitting on a 6’4” guy made me want to laugh. We’d be the brontosaurus of the festival. The acid trippers would see us and freak the hell out.”

“He knew now, and the knowledge was hard, that his task had never been to undo what he had done, but to finish what he had begun.”