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People grew lazy. They knew too many blessings, and so lost the ability to appreciate what they had

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
Appreciate
Grew
Knew
Ability
Lost
Many
Blessings
People
Lazy
Blessing

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Beautiful. And ugly. The world is always both.
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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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But wishes were empty thoughts, cast down a dark hole. They didn't come true unless you worked for them. I'd learned that about the world, if nothing more.
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I shake my head, but I can’t change this. I can only bear the scars, as I have always done, as I ever do.
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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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A divided heart offers a strange sensation.
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Then in the interest of full honesty, I really wish you'd kiss me right now.
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His reply offers infinite solace in a single word. Always.
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I felt like the blonde in every horror movie who hears a noise in the basement and goes to investigate alone. Sometimes you smell the stupid all around you, but you step in it anyway.
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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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I'm Sirantha Jax, and I have had enough.
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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.
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In the enclave, the strong and the physically perfect survived, but if you were strong, you protected the weak until they had an opportunity to grow into their own power.
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Before he bent his head, I knew what he was going to do. Touch his lips to mine. Oh, and I wanted him to... I stilled, hardly daring to breathe. The old refrain of cant and shouldn't sank beneath the weight of new worlds like please and yes.
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I’m as forgiving as the wall you hit at two hundred kilometers an hour.
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Most people can’t stomach silence it provides too much opportunity to think about things they prefer to avoid.
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I know you have bad news,” I say softly. “I’m ready for it.” But that’s not true. One is never ready. You just lie and say you are and hope you can take the hit on the chin without going down.
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Here in the enclave, one didn't prosper by demonstrating too much independent thought.
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A huntress never stabbed anything she didn't want to.
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I always have someplace else I’d rather be, even if I don’t know where that is, yet.
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