At the age of sixteen, she had slipped out of a house in the middle of the night and run for all she was worth. Now, twenty years later, she was running again.
She said the word never represents all the doors we keep closed, that when we say never we close ourselves off from the hope that things can ever be different.
At ten, she learned that no address was permanent, at twelve, that no promise was sacred, and at sixteen, that there was no such thing as safe.
Her eyes were open and glazed, a piercing shade of violet with fixed, bottomless pupils.
Do you have a room of your own? Do you have one space where you like to create, or can you do it in different places? A. These days, life comes at you full blast twenty-four/seven. There are so many d...
How can you not believe in never? It’s just a word. No, Missy said firmly. It isn’t. It’s all the doors we keep shut. It’s the places we won’t let ourselves go, the things we won’t let ourselves have...