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I still can't understand how Cecil and my old tutor, Fitz, got along so well, when we often called Fitz 'the Genius' and avoided calling Cecil anything at all, so as not to be rude.

Franny Billingsley

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Franny Billingsley
Age: 70
Born: 1954
Born: July 3
Author
Writer
Well
Along
Called
Fitz
Understand
Cecil
Often
Tutor
Stills
Avoided
Still
Rude
Anything
Calling
Wells
Genius

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Father sighed. “Please spare me these arguments of yours.” “Whose arguments should I use?
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It's one thing to keep secrets. It's quite another to lie.
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Father’s silence is not merely the absence of sound. It’s a creature with a life of its own. It chokes you. It pinches you small as a grain of rice. It twists in your gut like a worm. Silence clawed at my throat. It left a taste of burnt matches.
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The boy shall have a proper beating,' said Cecil. 'But I beat him already,' I said, 'and don't tell me I didn't do it properly. I'm touchy about these things.
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Did I kill him?” I said. “No, miss,” said Robert. “Pity.
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Our English monarchs are so unimaginative,” said Eldric. “They execute people in such tediously conventional ways.
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Yes, I'm shallow, I don't mind admitting it. Perhaps I should admit that there's no end to the depths of my shallowness.
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Even a witch wants sympathy.
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My own mask stayed just where it ought. I’ve had lots of practice.
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You don’t mind when he stares at you.” Cecil jerked his head toward Eldric. He doesn’t stare,” I said. “He looks.
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I was asking about lust, wasnʼt I? I was fairly certain of it. But isnʼt love supposed to come before lust? It does in the dictionary.
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Blast Cecil!” said Eldric. “You have my permission,” I said.
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I don't mean to be ungrateful but if someone's out there answering prayers, mine's not at the top of the list
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