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Time is fluid, so the moments where everything feels perfect pass in a wink, and those where you're on your knees in despair drag on like the death of a thousand cuts.

Ann Aguirre

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Ann Aguirre
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: August 27
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
the United States of America
Ellen Connor
Ava Gray
Feels
Pass
Time
Despair
Like
Cutting
Thousand
Wink
Perfect
Fluid
Death
Cuts
Moments
Drag
Everything
Knees

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His lashes, fluttered like butterfly wings. I could've made you happy, dove. You did, I whispered
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Survival feels like cowardice.
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We're broken in complementary ways, thus rendering our damage comprehensible to each other.
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I imagine the ones we’ve lost as ghosts who prowl about the edges of the light, waiting for us to join them. Sometimes that’s terrifying, and sometimes it’s reassuring, a promise of homecoming.
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Once exposed, a secret loses all its power.
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I wanted proof, not promises.
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I never knew I had the power to hurt him, only that he possessed the power to hurt me.
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We find heroes, not on battlefields, but in hospitals that tend the injured. Sometimes I think it’s easier to fight than it is to heal.
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Sometimes you find your heroes in the unlikeliest places.
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But I miss the woman I was, even as I learn to accept the new creature I’ve become.
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I sighed. 'It's hard. You're the only one who listens to what I have to say.' Longshot dropped a gentle, comforting arm around my shoulders. 'Then speak louder, girl. Don't let them put out your spark.
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Dying isn’t like living it requires no effort at all.
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I swept down the stairs to find Fade waiting for me at the bottom. His dark eyes widened, and for the first time since I'd known him, he was speechless. He stared up at me like I was everything he ever wanted.
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If so, I couldn't imagine how the opposite gender managed to get out of bed in the morning. They might be lovely to look at, but clear thinking wasn't their strong point.
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But the world moves on, even when you don't want it to, even when change feels like the end of everything. It never stops.
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There’s a reason I hate jigsaw puzzles. I don’t have the patience to find all the border pieces, especially when they’re all the same shade of gray.
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Here in the enclave, one didn't prosper by demonstrating too much independent thought.
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She carries chaos like an overcoat.
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I think my head's a minefield strewn with triggers, and maybe if I survive each explosion, what emerges from the wreckage will be me, really, truly me.
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I'm Sirantha Jax, and I have had enough.
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