Jeanette

“I'd been looking forward to reading my book--to escaping for a while into someone else's concerns. But after several minutes, I was forced to return to the beginning of the chapter and start it again. I read more slowly this time, concentrating on putting the words together carefully, and yet the sentences refused to reveal any of their meaning to me, and I found myself going over the same lines again and again, puzzling at certain banal phrases, at descriptions of the scenery and the weather.”
― Sara Davis, The Scapegoat

“I recently lost my partner." "Your business partner?" "No. My dog. But not just a dog." "Of course," he said instantly "Some dogs are not just dogs." To my astonishment he clapped his hand over mine and held it there. His face was red and contorted and tears spilled into his beard. I admire those who wear their emotions openly, for I have always concealed mine, and the years of scar tissue and isolation have only served to bury them deeper. "You know this pain," I said. " Oh yes. My beloved Czolgosz. Faithful through all weathers. Except very bad weather. Or any kind of precipitation at all. A light mist and he would become traitorous and seek shelter with whomever. Bu my shadow. A better, kinder shadow.”
― Nathaniel Ian Miller, The Memoirs of Stockholm Sven

“The man had sparse, oily hair parted down the center and that particular style of wiry, unkempt mustache that reached so far from his face it seemed liable to attack passersby.”
― Nathan Harris, The Sweetness of Water

“He had no map. Getting lost didn't concern him. He was lost before he started. Going home was the greater unknown.”
― James Kestrel, Five Decembers