“One final glance back at the hotel. Philias Switchmoat the Third, stepping from the curb and in to a puddle. Disappeared.”

“I gave him a kick and he stepped back onto the third rail. Exploding, flaming eraser! This is why moms tell you to stay away from the third rail, but it sure came in handy this time.”

“He enters my space, gives me a brief, sincere hug, then steps back, tripping on the curb. His face beams red - handsome and sweet.”

“Puddles were weak. Puddles were transparent, with all their secrets and imperfections clearly visible to observers standing above them. Puddles could be stepped on and splashed through and ruined.”

“Shoes really did lead the perfect life. They were polished and taken care of and notexpected to do anything more painful than occasionally step in a bit of mud or a rare puddle. She’dwager her shoes never wished they could just disappear.”

“Every third step I ran, my breath exploded out of me all in a rush. One step to suck in another cold lungful. One step to let it excape. One step of not breathing.”