Status Updates From Lisey's Story

Suspenseful, good

Two things have tied him to the earth and saved him from the long boy. His writing is one. The other has a waist he can put his arms around and an ear into which he can whisper.

"There's a place. We called it Boo'ya Moon, I forget why. It's mostly pretty."

You're good for the ones you love. You want to be good for the ones you love, because you know that your time with them will end up being too short, no matter how long it is.

The nice thing about talking to yourself was that mostly you didn't have to finish what you were saying.

The exhausted mind is obsession's easiest prey […].

She looked good, and in Lisey's experience, a woman who looked good usually felt that way.

She knew she and Scott had never discussed a new sofa, sectional or otherwise, just as she knew Scott would declare—oh yes, most vehemently— that they had. She was sure he'd discussed it with her in his head; he just sometimes forgot to vocalize those discussions. Forgetting was a skill he had honed.

It had been a bitch-kitty of a day, but it would have been a lot worse without Scott Landon, two years dead or not.

She had one cup of straight black before her bowl of oatmeal, another with double cream and sugar afterward. Sipping that one, she thought: All I need now is a ciggy and I could ride this day like a pony. A smucking Salem Light.

This was a cutting party now. In both the fading grin and the growing hurt in his eyes she saw how he loved her, and knew this increased her power to hurt him. Still, she would cut. And why? Because she could.”


[2/2]

“The grin on his face was still there but it was getting smaller, fading until it was little more than a quirk and one shallow dimple. Water, meanwhile, had risen in his eyes. The lost scared voice tried to call its warning again and she ignored it.


[1/2]

SOWISA, babyluv—Strap On Whenever It Seems Appropriate.