Malissa

“Pretty murder bird,” Morpheus says from the garden wall. Our gazes cut toward him as he pecks the last of the morsels off the stone. “Nom, nom. C is for cookie.” Morpheus gives three knocking clucks and then mimics the sound of the diesel tractor engine. Nolan’s eyes slide to the woodchipper and then back to mine, disbelief now mixing with the revulsion that still simmers in his face. “Did you name your woodchipper after the beloved Sesame Street character Cookie Monster and then teach a raven to beg for human snacks made from the people you murdered?”
― Brynne Weaver, Tourist Season

“All stories are love stories if you love stories.”
― Meg Shaffer, The Book Witch

“You okay?” I ask, cautious. “Yeah.” A deep inhale. “Yeah. I just wanted to listen to you exist.”
― Ali Hazelwood, Problematic Summer Romance

“Did she shoot me?” “Irene? Yup, but only in the arm. Leg? I don’t know. You were in wolf form.” “Where is she?” “Um, so. Koen was, um, mad.” “Ah.” “You have been de-aunted, I fear.” “How tragic,” I say, not giving a single fuck.”
― Ali Hazelwood, Mate