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“It’s an online download,” she pointed out then mimed zipping her lips. “Yes, ma’am.” With her living in a virtual world, I shouldn’t be surprised online games no longer came with hard copies. It showed my age, though. I might look like a pink-cheeked college kid with her whole life ahead of her, but I was a cranky old witch who appreciated purchasing items I could reach out and touch. Before long, I would be shouting get off my lawn to neighborhood kids.
The look I cut him would have cowed a lesser man, but Clay was not one to moo.
>>Sleep. Eat. Brain tomorrow.
“Lady, I’m a black witch. I’ve done the worst things you can imagine and then some. Usually, I was smiling while I did them. Laughing even. But to bind the daemon to the fae as one personality would be to strip away the facets of the man I fell in love with, and I would rather slice you in half than tear him down the middle.”
“We are,” she said, “but I can’t cook, or eat what you cook, and those are your top two hobbies.” “We do have a surplus of croquembouche.” He sounded sheepish. “I made a fort.” Uncertain I heard him right but afraid I had, I asked anyway, “You made a croquembouche…fort?” “Choux pastry puffs make surprisingly good building blocks, and caramel is the best glue.”
“I hate crying.” I shoved away from him. “I hate feelings.” “Feelings hate you too.” He ruffled my hair like a big brother. “That’s why they’ve ganged up on you.”
There comes a point where you must stop looking back on the person you were and judging the person you are by their standards. You can’t be two people at once. You’re either New You or Old You. There is no in between.
