He’d grown used to seeing the colors in people, but he no longer wanted to see hers.
When I was in the first grade, I was probably the only girl in my class who’d never gone rabbit hunting with her father.
Everyone loved the flowers, even though nobody knew where they came from.
I always saw him in my dreams. We met in a thinly wooded forest with a smoldering red sky. Why, I don’t know. But he was always there.
She couldn’t remember a time before the swamp.
I remember almost nothing about him. I just remember he was there, that I cared for him, and his name.
The terrible sound rushed upon us, gnawing at our backs as we ran over the plump spring grass.