My Bad Luck Got Tangled Up With

Death Was Like An Unpleasant Neighbor. You Didn’t Talk About Him For Fear He Might Hear You And Decide To Pay A Visit.

My Shrug Was So Nonchalant It Would Make A Cat Jealous

Then I Felt Something Inside Me Break And Music Began To Pour Out Into The Quiet. My Fingers Danced; Intricate And Quick They Spun Something Gossamer And Tremulous Into The Circle Of Light Our Fire Had Made. The Music Moved Like A Spiderweb Stirred By A Gentle Breath, It Changed Like A Leaf Twisting As It Falls To The Ground, And It Felt Like Three Years Waterside In Tarbean, With A Hollowness Inside You And Hands That Ached From The Bitter Cold.

Auri Took It, And Peered Inside The Small Leather Sack. “why This Is Lovely, Kvothe. What Lives In The Salt?” Trace Minerals, I Thought. Chromium, Bassal, Malium, Iodine . . . Everything Your Body Needs But Probably Can’t Get From Apples And Bread And Whatever You Manage To Scrounge Up When I Can’t Find You. “the Dreams Of Fish,” I Said. “and Sailor’s Songs.

In My Opinion There Are Two Basic Questions That Any Writer Tries To Answer. "what Is?" Is The Question Non-fiction Asks. "what If?" Is The Question Fiction Asks. That's The Question I'm More Interested In.