Funny how someone who dropped into your life from out of nowhere could make more sense than the people entrenched there from the start.

William Safire

He’d have a conniption, horrified at her recklessness. Although she’d have countered that it wasn’t so much recklessness as a profoundly arrogant failure of imagination: she hadn’t believed Gardner was a murderer, so it must not have been true.

He was so heartbreakingly incautious; he always forgot that the good stretches ended.

Not that she thought he’d come after her, but better safe than sorry in the city—something

It wasn’t so easy, she’d explain to Stephanie tomorrow night, to tell someone something you knew would smash their world into pieces.

Nina mixed herself a drink, strong enough so she could float around unselfconsciously, but not so strong she’d slur her words or trip over the edge of a candy corn–colored rug.

Now was the time to say something, tell Stephanie the truth, or at least what she believed to be true, if she could just summon the courage. That they weren’t invincible, and there wasn’t always a second chance. That life wasn’t always long. That Patrick would drag her down and strangle her spirit. That the things that had hurt them weren’t their

Turn over the boulder of friendship and who knew what might be wriggling underneath.