Putting breakfast out on the table, Delirium made sure everything was ready before she went and picked up Daniel. Smoothing down the miniature suit that he was wearing and brushed his soft hair back from his face. Daniel reached for her hair grabbing and yanking it, in a way that made her yelp from the sudden pain. Celia of course thought this was ( Read more... )

Stacks of books. Library books with the sign-out cards stuck in the back. New York Public Library. San Francisco, New Orleans, Chicago, Los Angeles. Places he'd been, unfamiliar names signed on the cards, dating back to the seventies and on. Biographies of great thinkers, of artists, of madmen. That's all the bookcase would give him, stacks of them ( Read more... )

On his ninth day on the island, he'd found one of the waterfalls. It was night, the bottom of the pool dark and obscured, and on a whim, he pulled his key ring from his pocket, felt the weight of it in his palm, and then chucked the thing, keys and all, into the water. It made a satisfying plop, water rippling out as the silver metal glinted and ( Read more... )

If truth is told, the one thing that Daisy misses most outside of work is Der Waffle Haus. She misses the quaint little music in the background and good god, but she misses Kiffany's hustle and bustle and perky spirit. The food's a good thing, too, but she's not Rube and she's not about to drop a monologue about the perfection of raisins ( Read more... )

”Let’s make a videotape.”

He had a vision of her, in his mind. A vision from the moment he saw her, standing there framed by the doorway of her perfect little house, her smile tense and confused - You can’t be who I thought you were. He had a vision of her, immaculate and demure, with her Southern Belle accent and her charmingly gap-toothed smile ( Read more... )