Is that what life comes down to, luck?

I picture its frightened eyes, remember its shiver as I eased the barb from its leg.

I was nearly old enough to drive and vote by the time she left, but Billy was only seven, and it did a number on him.

Nothing about the whale haunted our dreams.

More often than not, the eyes are his parents. Day hides his magic from them especially.

“You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen.”

Years and years and years from now—hopefully decades, if you’re lucky—you’ll admit that you robbed your favorite diner while lying on your death bed.

He is a messenger of light and the most recent salt of the earth.

The shape of her mother under the covers, motionless, her dark hair pressed into the pillow, frightened Laurie.

I smile inwardly at the image of her climbing the tree with a baby bird. That is the kind of stuff I used to do as a kid.

I tried waiting for everyone else to get up but that frosty white icing looked too good to resist...

I pieced her together, building her the way a child builds with Legos, my body following an ancient and secret recipe without my brain even knowing how.