“Somewhere a cicada conversed irritably with the night, then fell silent.” — Michael Prescott Copy Share Image
“Rush hour was under way; her car became one more pair of headlights in a glittering daisy chain of commuters.” — Michael Prescott Copy Share Image
“People were always reaching for what they didn’t have—fame or wealth, youth or love, some final victory or vengeance. They chased after the prizes… — Michael Prescott Copy Share Image
“I wonder why things always seem most real to us when we lose them, he said softly.” — Michael Prescott Copy Share Image
“You’re like the figures you display in your shop. A beautiful thing, shiny in sunlight, but at the core—poured metal, cold stone.” — Michael Prescott Copy Share Image
“Somewhere a cicada conversed irritably with the night, then fell silent.” — Michael Prescott Copy Share Image
“Early in life, stalkers learned how to hate, but unlike common criminals, they learned self-restraint also. They held their hatred in check. Few of… — Michael Prescott Copy Share Image
