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We stand a professional distance apart, as if I can’t feel his pain screaming in my head. Mine amplifies his they share a joint sound—that of glass breaking—until they swell to a crescendo that deafens.

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
Stand
Breaking
Share
Glass
Amplifies
Head
Professional
Crescendo
Sound
Glasses
Amplify
Pain
Apart
Swell
Feel
Distance
Joint
Feels
Mines
Joints
Mine
Screaming

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There’s a hollow where he used to be, and it echoes with self-imposed loss.
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But it was like a dance across a field strewn with razors, and I bled with every step I took.
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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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Perhaps that was the point life, if you did it right, meant learning and changing. If you didn't, you died- or stopped growing - which amounted to more or less the same thing. So I would slide in and out of different roles until I discovered the one that fit me best. -Deuce, (183)
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You don’t need to be afraid of falling // when there’s someone around to catch you.
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. . . and I don’t expect him to suborn his life into mine any more than I would change my dreams for him. We’re not one soul, one being, however much we love each other.
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I don’t like anyone knowing anything about me that I didn’t choose to tell them.
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I couldn't help what I'd done before I learned it was wrong. I could only do better in the future.
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Here in the enclave, one didn't prosper by demonstrating too much independent thought.
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I know just how he feels that it’s come to this. Sometimes, love isn’t enough, even when it’s all you have.
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They say funerals are not for the dead but for the living. Those rites are what permit you to move on, so if you don't deal with the remains, you can never deal with the memories. That might be true we may have walked in their dust down on Venice Minor, but it's not the same as a proper good-bye.
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I admired Stalkers style. He was incredibly fast using two small blades strapped to the backs of his hands. Slash slash slash. Fighting him you wouldn’t die of one great wound but instead bleed out slowly surprised to find yourself weak and dying after a thousand cuts.
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We’re bound by chains of love, but they don’t weigh us down. Instead, they allow us to be bigger and better than we are.
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I so enjoy it when people assume I'm stupid. Not that, just very focused on killing.
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People stay together and stay true only as long as they both want to. And all the promises in the world don’t change the length of time. Nothing comes with a guarantee.
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Life…never gave me a chance to be soft.
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You don’t know what it’s like to be alone until you’ve had someone inside your head.
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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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Did he die well? No, I thought. Nobody did. They just died.
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Beyond, the unknown lay before us once more, and another impossible task. The four of us emerged from the earth and turned our steps west, toward the last hope for Salvation.
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