Last week I took a break from SSS…didya miss it?!? I did.

This week’s sentences are from Grave Refrain by Sarah M. Glover …

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His music uncoiled, recalling memories of loss and longing and of words uttered too late.

“You always fuck it up, trying to make yourself look superior with that Byronic sex appeal.”

It reminded Emily of the feeling she had when she was very young, sitting in her living room, waiting for her parents to turn on the Christmas tree lights for the first time…the very air around her changed.

A sigh, you understand, just coat the rim like you were kissing it.

A weed rioted path led to a grand door that would do Jacob Marley’s disembodied head proud.

He would wait, wait until the record he had placed there began to play, wait until his hands had finished caressing her, wait for his body to settle into hers, to inhale and exhale, to be alive.

But he knew, without any doubt, that she -  his muse – had stood before him, close enough to touch, and that was the only reality that mattered anymore.

“Imagine loving someone so violently, so passionately, and not being able to touch them, to hold them.”

“I’m only informing you, if you haven’t realized it up to this point in your illustrious career of fucking, that little girls don’t like it when you lie.”

If history books recorded such things, they would note that the Lost Boys’ assault on their neighbors’ hearts began on that Friday, at around six p.m.

They talked about everything and anything, until they found they could not stop, until they were hoarse, even though their minds still swirled with the need to hear the other’s voice.

Exhausted and vulnerable and exposed, she was the most moving thing he had ever seen.

He wanted to feel her, he wanted to taste her, he wanted her, all at once.

Her breathe hot against his ear, she whispered words that he knew, words she had screamed, whispered, teased him with for ages.

His tongue tasted the wine on her lips, and he heard her say, “I love you,” like a confession.

She perched on the edge of her chair and loosened her gossamer scarf, the color of a crisp dollar bill, as she ordered a drink from the waiter.

Wanting was not new to Emily, but this kind of nameless longing was.

The man of her heart had found her and taken her soul in the process.

“What I want to know is where in the How to Get a Girl to Fuck You manual are athletic events listed?”

The walls were lined in a lush maroon, brocade wallpaper, and candlelit sconces reflected across the dark wooden floors and the pressed-tin ceiling.

Somewhere nearby a piano swooned jazz.

A flame of something wicked passed through his hooded eyes.

“I know I’ve only been with you for a heartbeat of time.”

She curled into him, gasping his name and obscenities to the night air, and the words swirled around them like untamed phantoms.

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WoW! What amazing sentences right?!? That covers the first half of the book, and next Saturday I’ll finish the rest.

Tamie Xo