“I hate boring. I always do my best to find the imperfections. That's where the fun usually is.”
“I saw Four, Brandon’s Garde, poking his head out from behind Brandon’s back. He shyly put his hand out for Nine to take, inviting him to walk to pre-combat together. Seeing this, I hoped Nine would take Four’s hand. It was a sweet gesture.”
“I mean, it's not the biggest thing to pilot it since it does most of the work on its own, but still. It's a big flying egg, what's not fun about that?”
“It’s like, Earthlings, you idiots, get it together!”
“We were never perfect. There's no such thing as perfect. But it's not to late for us. We can still be good.”
“On July 2, 1960, a few weeks before that year’s Democratic National Convention, former President Harry Truman publicly stated that John F Kennedy—who had won enough delegates to be chosen his party’s candidate for the presidency—was too young and inexperienced for the job.”
“He dodged remarkably fast for a melancholy introvert.”
“You wouldn't think the touch of someone's hand could blow your mind. It's nothing, right? People don't right songs and poems about holding hands - they write them about kisses and sex and eternal love. I mean, when you're a little kid you hold hands with your parents to cross the street. Who's going to write an ode to that?
We were alone in the dark, even though the enormous theater was filled with probably a thousand people. We were a tiny island in a sea of other people who didn't matter, who had no meaning, who were so stupid, so oblivious, so stuck in their own boring lives that they didn't even notice the huge, momentous, life-shattering event that was taking place right there in row L, between seats 102 and 104.
Derek Edwards was holding my hand.”
“He smiled and lifted a finger to stroke her cheek. Meredith’s stomach roiled. “Oh dear.” She quickly covered her mouth with one hand and her stomach with the other, thanking God for the excuse to cut their time together short. “I think something from lunch may not be agreeing with me.” That something being Roy Mitchell. An impatient frown darkened Roy’s face before he quickly replaced it with a look of concern. “Would you like to sit and rest for a moment? There’s a bench outside the drugstore across the street.” “No. I think I should lie down.” She hunched herself over and added a quiet moan for good measure. “Can you take me home, please?” “Are you sure?” Meredith nodded vigorously, keeping her hand over her mouth. “Very well.” Roy took her arm and helped her navigate the three blocks back to her uncle’s house. When they reached the front gate, however, he used his grip to slow her to a halt. “I’m so sorry to have ruined our afternoon,” she blurted, not wanting to give him the chance to ask her anything. Besides, the longer she thought about what he planned for Travis, the more ill she truly became. She looked up at the brick house, longing for the escape it promised. “Meredith, darling,” Roy said, turning her to face him, “please, just tell me that I can move ahead with our wedding plans.” The idea was so nauseating, Meredith didn’t have to prevaricate. Her stomach began to heave all on its own. Roy must have seen the truth in her face as she bent forward, for his eyes widened and he quickly stepped back. Meredith covered her mouth and ran for the house. “I’ll come by later this evening,” Roy called after her, but Meredith didn’t slow until she was safely inside.”
“He thinks I'm beautiful and told me so. He thinks I'm funny because I make him laugh all the time. He's fantastic in bed and when I say that not once, not even once have we been together where he's not taken care of me and it's not unheard of he takes care of me twice in one go.”
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