You're Working For Me Cut Out The

It Really Is The Year 2007. Which Means I Must Be... Oh My God. I'm Twenty-eight. I'm Old.

Every Time I Mention Her, Magnus Says, "are You Two Getting Along?" In Raised, Hopeful Tones, Like We're Endangered Pandas Who Need To Make A Baby.

What Are They Waiting To See?" Sam Follows My Gaze And I Shrug. "who Knows? You Could Always Do A Dance, Or Tell A Joke, Or... Kiss The Bride?" "not The Bride," He Wraps His Arms Around Me, And Gradually Pulls Me Close. Our Noses Are Practically Touching. I Can See Right Into His Eyes. I Can Feel The Warmth Of His Skin. "you." Me. "the Girl Who Stole My Phone." His Lips Brush Across The Corner Of My Mouth. "the Thief." "it Was In A Bin." "still Stealing." "no It Isn't-," I Begin. But Now His Mouth Is Firmly On Mine, And I Can't Speak At All. And Suddenly, Life Is Good.

Your Father Always Tries To See The Good Side Of People; To Find The Excuse. But Sometimes There Isn't A Good Side. There Isn't An Excuse. (mom - To Lara Lington)

Maybe My Identity's Been Stolen. Or Maybe I Was Sleep-shopping!