Ingi

“Puggle isn’t a word, Bridge.”
Letting her down gently had no effect. She stomped a boot on the ground, making the contents of the mystery pink bag rattle in her hand. “It is,” she insisted. “Ask someone.”
I looked from left to right, wondering who she was expecting me to stop. As busy as the park was, I couldn’t see a single person who looked knowledgeable in Australian wildlife. “What am I supposed to ask, Bridget?” I asked. “Excuse me ma’am, do you know what a puggle is?”
She raised her free hand, bouncing on the spot. “I know! I know!” she squealed. “It’s a baby ’chidna.”
I made a mental note to hold off on the sarcasm for a year or two. I decided to dazzle her with science instead. I took my phone from my pocket and Googled it – then had to eat my words because a baby echidna is indeed called a puggle.
“How can you possibly know the things you do?”
She grinned, reminding me too much of her mom. “I’m a smart girl, Ry.”
― G.J. Walker-Smith

“I'd rather have five minutes of something amazing than a lifetime of nothing special”
― G.J. Walker-Smith, Saving Wishes

“I wished for you," he whispered, so quietly that I struggled to hear.
"What did that feel like? I've never made a wish in my life." My voice was as shaky as my words were stupid.
"Everybody wishes for something, Charli."
I put just enough space between us to be able to look at him. "Not me. I've saved them all up. Birthday candles, shooting stars, stray eyelashes...ladybugs. I've saved hem all up. I figure I'm owed hundreds of wishes now.”
― GJ Walker-Smith

“Every picture ever taken is a fraction of a second, frozen in time forever.”
― G.J. Walker-Smith, Saving Wishes