They're , . . my friends." You said you hated having friends. You said all they did was waste your free time, and cost you money at Christmas. - Ali Shaw

She worried about [her son, Seb] often, especially when rising waters were mentioned on the news, or the death of a species announced, or noises made about ice caps slipping into oceans. She thought of Seb leaning over his laptop, and what kind of world he was growing himself up in. And when the news brought tales of louder disasters, and to her shame Hannah found them easy to forget in her day-to-day rush, she feared a flood or a tidal wave of heart-stopping magnitude sweeping through the landscapes of Seb's future, and him having simply no idea of how to cope.

Adrien had always considered cider a crude drink, flavoured like a highway underpass. The cider was bitter and salty both, like sea air cheering the senses just as it stung them. He had a lot of thinking to do, and thinking was always less daunting with a glass in hand.

She folded her arms, suddenly feeling like she used to at school: the stupid one who answered questions wrong. That was the reason why she didn't do much talking. Talking was deceit, one of the games people played to keep themselves from looking the world in the eye.