Indexing (Indexing, #1)

by Seanan McGuire

“Don’t say ‘moronic,’” said Jeff. “It’s ableist language, and you know I won’t stand for that.” “Fuck you,” replied Sloane genially. “Much less offensive,” said Jeff.

“The only people who don’t make mistakes are the dead ones,”

Our little Rapunzel isn’t going to get a happy ever fuck you after all. Now can we go back to the office? I’ve got a headache.”

“Every good thing you find, no matter how small, is a penny for you to put in your pocket. Gather them close, and treasure them. Someday you’ll have a future where you feel rich enough, emotionally, to spend them freely.”

So we loved the quiet instead. The spaces where there were no stories, where anything could happen.

I glanced at Jeff, afraid of finding judgment or disapproval in his eyes. Not because it would change the way I felt about my brother, but because I liked Jeff, and it would be a shame to have to find a place to hide his body.