A TOUCHING LIPS REMINDER. SYDCARMY JAYO. THE BEAR

Her lips formed his name though he felt the sound more than heard it.

She hated mirrors, hated her ankles, hated her hair. She wanted to climb out of her life as if it were a seashell she could abandon on a shore and walk away from, barefoot. No one else on the whole landmass of North America, she was sure, had such a stupid life.

It’s how they do it, torment a girl with wanting and lure out her soul like a snail from its shell, until she can barely feel it anymore and it seems like a skimpy, worthless thing to trade.

She was deeply susceptible to mortification: easy to embarrass though hard to disgust.

“She'd probably have been flattered to learn someone wanted her so much, even if that someone was a goblin.”