“He turned to me, and do you know what he said to me ? He said in a deadly serious tone, 'Momma, am I dead?' And I said 'no honey, you're not dead', and he shook his head, looking all confused about something. Then he pointed to you dancing and said, 'if I'm not dead, then why is there an Angel in our house.'”
― The Boy Who Sneaks in My Bedroom Window
― The Boy Who Sneaks in My Bedroom Window
“-Gracias por esto, Ángel, pero no me gusta el Coco Pops.
Le fruncí el ceño, confundida. Siempre estaba comiendo mi cereal.
-Claro que sí, te lo comes todos los días.
Se echó a reír.
-No, no lo hago. Hago un plato cada día y pretendo comerlo, antes de que vengas y me lo arrebates.
-¿Por qué diablos harías un plato y pretender comerlo? ¿Te gusta hacerme enojar?
-No, Ángel. Me gusta hacerte el desayuno.”
― The Boy Who Sneaks in My Bedroom Window
Le fruncí el ceño, confundida. Siempre estaba comiendo mi cereal.
-Claro que sí, te lo comes todos los días.
Se echó a reír.
-No, no lo hago. Hago un plato cada día y pretendo comerlo, antes de que vengas y me lo arrebates.
-¿Por qué diablos harías un plato y pretender comerlo? ¿Te gusta hacerme enojar?
-No, Ángel. Me gusta hacerte el desayuno.”
― The Boy Who Sneaks in My Bedroom Window
“The way I feel about you . . . it’s crazy.”
“You got the crazy part right,” she snapped, pulling away from me.
“I practiced this in my head the whole time we were on the bike, so just hear me out.”
“Travis—”
“I know we’re fucked-up, all right? I’m impulsive and hot tempered, and you get under my skin like no one else. You act like you hate me one minute, and then you need me the next. I never get anything right, and I don’t deserve you . . . but I fucking love you, Abby. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone or anything, ever. When you’re around, I don’t need booze or money or the fighting or the one-night stands . . . all I need is you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I dream about. You’re all I want.”
― Walking Disaster
“You got the crazy part right,” she snapped, pulling away from me.
“I practiced this in my head the whole time we were on the bike, so just hear me out.”
“Travis—”
“I know we’re fucked-up, all right? I’m impulsive and hot tempered, and you get under my skin like no one else. You act like you hate me one minute, and then you need me the next. I never get anything right, and I don’t deserve you . . . but I fucking love you, Abby. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone or anything, ever. When you’re around, I don’t need booze or money or the fighting or the one-night stands . . . all I need is you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I dream about. You’re all I want.”
― Walking Disaster
Paula’s 2024 Year in Books
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