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“If we were in his book, our hands would leave trails of light like sparklers through the sky, glowing against the night; they would crackle and fizz with magic. But we aren't, so they're just mildly clammy and soundtracked by someone throwing up against a lamp post on the promenade (loudly).” — Maggie Harcourt
If we were in his book, our hands would leave trails of light like sparklers through the sky, glowing against the night; they would crackle and fizz with magic. But we aren't, so they're just mildly clammy and soundtracked by someone throwing up against a lamp post on the promenade (loudly).