Chapter 1 God was napping again. It was 10:52 in the morning—in ‘Heaven Time’—and God was already back asleep. God had given up on all of the timelines a long, long time ago, and now God was waiting
All the Dragonflies died. They die every winter. They spend years underwater as little tadpole looking things, before crawling out of the water, sprouting wings, just to fly for a few weeks, before
“The version in my head of her is a masterpiece of selective memory.” Whoa, who said that? . . . “I did.” Whoa. Who are you? “I am you.” No. I am me. “You are also you.” What? Dude, WHAT is going on?
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