Passion Project

by London Sperry

Mom—the pigs are flying.

Mhm I love me some good inside joke dedications

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that there was no guy alive who would tempt me to fall in love.

I wish I could still be the girl she remembers, the one who loved baking brownies with her and her mom. The girl who loved cheesy movies and playing laser tag and going on adventures. But that was before every atom in my body rearranged into who I am now.

Drat. I’ve been betrayed by my own stomach.

No, I think. “No,” I say.

Realest part of ths book so far: fmc has no filter

Sal’s complexion is similar to an eggplant. It makes me worry about his cholesterol. He’s wearing an ill-fitted white button-up that’s yellowing a bit around the seams. His hairline is damp and balding, but his features bear the faint whisper of someone who used to be handsome.

BRUTAL

a woman conducts a flock of birds on the wind like they’re her own private orchestra.

FLUTTERSHY?!?!?!?!?

“Serial killers are overwhelmingly charming men, so you’re not really helping your case here.” “Ah.” He raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m charming.” “Ugh.” I groan involuntarily. “I think you’re clinging to the wrong part of what I said. I believe serial killer was the operative term in that sentence.”

I hated every second of it, seeing her happy.

Sounds like you couldnt love her more