“. . . sitting up cross-legged and noting the light, how it fills the room in streams, etching out the shape of Zach recumbent, a bold coastline in a clarion sky. I drop anchor here, thinks Rachel. Anywhere here. You are my home, my horizon, my shore. How long is the coast of Britain?”
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“Be my wolf," she says. "I am your wolf," he replies, fighting for wind. Let the day begin.”
“Even when you cry, you're still beautiful.”
“Mary. If you were real I'd run away with you forever.”
“Blondie?" "You don't like it? I could always call you Bae, or fat ass?”
“And wilderness is paradise now.”