I Ran Like A Thing That Runs.

We're Going To Die," Keith Said, The Moment He Was Gone. "this Man Is A Serial Killer. We're Going To Die, And He's Going To Bury Us In His Garden And Build A Shed On Us.

Nothing Was Quite Like It Was Supposed To Be.

I Remember How, At First, I Had Felt The Tension In His Lips, As If He Was Trying To Make A Barrier Between Us - Then They Had Relaxed, Parted Slightly. And That's When I Had Known He Wanted To Kiss Me, Wanted To Give In. That Little Parting Of The Lips, The Little Sigh That Came Out... I Would Hear That Sigh Forever. That Little, Little Sound When The Whole World Seemed To Open Up.

I Have No Phobias. Phobias Are Irrational. My Fears Are Rational And Carefully Cultivated, Like Roses.

You Can Never Visit The Same Place Twice. Each Time, It's A Different Story. By The Very Act Of Coming Back, You Wipe Out What Came Before.