






Tara counted in her head, a silent tally of
The fire was the girl, and the girl was the fire
very movement of her body seemed an amazing blend of purpose and instinct, immeasurable in its elegance.
girl barred the door with a thick oaken plank.
Her feet were white, the edges of her toenails purple-blue with cold.
The blonde gasped as pins and needles shot from her knees to her toes. “I’m sorry, I know it must hurt,” Willow murmured.
They sat in silence, for how long Tara couldn’t say
Aunt Rosalie found her sitting on the dresser in my old room, and so she decided to give her to me.”
a terrible tapestry of wasted years, of loneliness and silence.
you shouldn’t be burdened with someone who is only a memory.”
in that childlike wide-eyed way
"I know what we can do today,
They even had a Christmas Queen.
they were always either too drunk or too busy fighting
growing ever more resentful that her childhood memories of the majestic pageantry of the Christmas
the decayed fossilized skeleton of what had once been the parakeet
I must have picked up some bacterial infection from the ground."
The sound of thudding footsteps down the staircase woke her
“She’s passed out,” Buffy said with a smile.
decided the night before what china she wanted to use for their meal,
I turned my back for a second
“Ah, well ain’t that a Kodak moment.”
“Did you just call my child a monster?”
Taking the rest of her pita, she ran it along Maggie’s arm before exiting the room, the sound of Willow’s voice chasing her.
“Hey!” Willow hollered as she ran to the kitchen doorway. “Don’t use my daughter as a condiment!”
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