“You want to hide,” he says. “I know. Because you feel like you’re not allowed to think the things you think. Or feel the things you feel.” “Welcome to the human condition,” I say wryly.” — Gretchen Powell Copy Share Image
“The stars glitter from outside... like cosmic confetti sprinkled across the night sky.” — Gretchen Powell Copy Share
“Ten neatly coiffed female attendants stand against the walls, ready and waiting. Wearing starched yellow blouses with pink crossover ties neatly folded under the… — Gretchen Powell Copy Share
“Why don’t we just assume from now on that I’m just generally freaked out at all times?” — Gretchen Powell Copy Share
“Something clicks in my brain. My heart instantly plummets to the bottom of my stomach, and I feel my face start to flush with… — Gretchen Powell Copy Share
“You want to hide,” he says. “I know. Because you feel like you’re not allowed to think the things you think. Or feel the… — Gretchen Powell Copy Share
“Why aren't you at school?" I ask suddenly. "It's a holiday," he says, a little too quickly. "Right. What holiday would that be? National… — Gretchen Powell Copy Share
