I’m From New Jersey. I Was Born

Jem Leaned Closer Against The Chair, Staring Into The Fire. “better It Were My Hands,” He Said. Will Shook His Head. Exhaustion Was Muting The Edges Of Everything In The Room, Blurring The Flocked Wallpaper Into A Single Mass Of Dark Color. “no. Not Your Hands. You Need Your Hands For The Violin. What Do I Need Mine For?

Jessamine Recoiled From The Paper As If It Were A Snake. "a Lady Does Not Read The Newspaper. The Society Pages, Perhaps, Or The Theater News. Not This Filth." "but You Are Not A Lady, Jessamine---," Charlotte Began. "dear Me," Said Will. "such Harsh Truths So Early In The Morning Cannot Be Good For The Digestion.

And What About Us? Do You Want A Vampire Boyfriend?" He Laughed Bitterly. "because I Forsee Many Romantic Picnics In Our Future. You, Drinking A Virgin Piña Colada. Me, Drinking The Blood Of A Virgin.

Our Souls Are Knit. We Are One Person, James.

Did Brother Zachariah Just Steal Our Cat?