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“Y’all think she’s OK?” “How the hell should I know? I don’t even know if we’re OK.” “You know what I mean. She’s the only one who hasn’t woken up yet. She looks like she got banged up real good.” “Hold up! I feel like I just saw her eyelids move.” “Bullshit.”
“Love getting ready to greet some territorial aliens without knowing any bloody verbs or adjectives or the way to say ‘friendly humans, please don’t eat us,’”
trying very hard to keep my shit together. We didn’t need more tears now, but it was tough.
of wondering if he was even real. A strong warrior who seemed addicted to giving me pleasure, who’d made me a pair of freaking socks, plus new pants and a saddle? My last boyfriend couldn’t have even been bothered to take the trash out.
“YOU MUST LIVE, ZEEZEE. You must. I cannot think without you. I cannot breathe. If you die, I will wander the sands forever bereft without you. I will let the zeelk strip the flesh from my bones, and even that will not be enough to atone. That pain would be nothing to this. You must live. You must fight. You must. You must.”
“Forgive me, Zeezee. You have broken open my world and put it back together again. Your words have forged futures I never thought I’d live to see. It is difficult to speak.”