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1 " The Goth boy stares at me, and I give him a what-are-you-looking-at stare right back. “I’m dead,” he says in a dull monotone. “Pardon me?” Adriana asks, but he keeps staring at me. “You’re dead, too. Look at your veins. They’re blue.” He points at my forearms where dark veins run their lengths. “You’re rotting like me.” I glance to Adriana, hands clasped and praying that she won’t leave me here. Adriana’s stopped crying now and squints at the boy before standing to pull closed the curtain that rings my cot. “Crazy,” she says with an uncertain smile. “You’re not rotting.” . . . ninety-nine, one hundred . “No,” I reply. “But I will if you leave me here. "
― Michael F. Stewart , Counting Wolves
2 " He nods, then squints across the room. " Not all those who wander are lost," he says. He's still squinting. I wonder if he's practiced this squint - a squint-stare off into the metaphysical distance. I'm realizing he's kind of handsome. But then again, it might just be that he cares about something." What is that?" I ask. " Did Jesus Christ say that?" " No," he says. " Bilbo Baggins said that. "
3 " You have to remember that there are reasons to live, and that at least a few people are decent, and that the world is worthwhile some of the time, okay?”I raise my face to his, wanting another kiss, but he stops me.“You will remember?”The balloon bumps downward again. His eyes are still closed.“Why don’t you open your eyes?”He opens one and squints at me for a second. “I’m terrified of heights,” he says. "
― Bethany Griffin , Masque of the Red Death (Masque of the Red Death, #1)
