Imagineer (Imagineer #1)

by Honor Raconteur

My stages of waking proceeded thusly: 1. Denial 2. Denial 3. Denial 4. Denial 5. Extreme hostility

I think everyone, at some point in their lives, sees something strange from the corner of their eyes. Something that is so quick, so transitory, they question their sanity for even thinking they saw it in the first place. Most people don’t even mention when it happens to them, dismissing it completely.

I went through the checklist as I got ready. Keys, check. Phone, check. Purse, check. Pants, check. Sanity? Sanity? Yoo-hoo? And we had a runner.

Reagan, I have an idea.” Reading the dislike on his face well enough, I drawled, “No murder.” “I no longer have an idea.”

Sleeping is nice because you’re not actually dead and you’re not awake, so it’s a win-win situation.” “It’s like being dead without the commitment,” I agreed, playing along. Ciarán’s tail beat a happy rhythm against my shoulder. “Right. An open relationship with death.” “Death with benefits,” I countered, snickering.

“We Irish, we have a toast. When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we sleep, we do not sin. When we do not sin, we go to heaven. So, let’s get drunk and go to heaven!”

Just remember that if someone treats you terribly, there’s something wrong with them. Good people don’t go around destroying other people.”

The man who says it can’t be done really shouldn’t interrupt the woman doing it.

I hated it when older people said ‘you’re too young to be tired.’ Alright, well, you’re too old to be alive but here we are.