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No one warned you that having children reduced you right down to some smaller, rudimentary, primitive version of yourself, where your talents and your education and your achievements meant nothing.
Two musicians could play the same notes and sound entirely different. Intonation was everything.
reading faces was one of her skills. It was a legacy of a childhood spent reading her mother’s face, monitoring, analyzing, trying to modify her behavior in time, except that her skill rarely allowed her to get things right; it just meant that she always knew when she got things wrong.
He’d never knowingly broken the law, but he could. The potential was there: maybe not to kill, but certainly to maim, and he did not want to go to jail. The food. The clothes. Vid shuddered at the thought.
