And enough for me that when my hand touched your shoulder, you leaned on me; and when you felt me slip away, you called my name. — Orson Scott Card Copy Share Image
“Well.” Giving a sniff, I tossed my hair back and walked through the door. “That’s the last time I ever offer you a shoulder to cry on.” “Hallelujah,” he muttered. Ingrate. But he nudged my shoulder, leaned down, mouth right… — Erin Lynn Copy Share Image
