Tea. I used to drink hot tea while I read. Mysteries, mostly. Agatha Christie was my favorite.
Sugar. I loved sweets. Pies and tarts and cupcakes. I miss food. We all do, I suppose.
Quiet. There’s so many people in the salvage dorms, it’s hardly ever quiet but there’s a park across the square with trees made of bent wire and papery bark and leaves and I sit there sometimes reading.
Thrifty. I used to love to find old things. There was a street where I lived and each store was full of real old stuff, antiques, some, but mostly crap. I’d dig through all the new things they’d bring in and imagine where they’d come from.
Werewolves. I just really love animals. I wish they were real. Sometimes, I’d like to think there was something else out there but ghosts and the dead bodies we walk around in, occasionally. I guess that’s where the zombie stories must have started.
Unicorns. Though I don’t think they’d survive a zombie horde, there’s just too many of them. Zombies are like roaches, right. Just crawling all over the place, at least they are in the movies. In real life, they aren’t scary at all, just ghosts going for a ride. They certainly don’t eat people, that’d be gross.
Cold. I love the winter and snow. Sometimes when the ash is falling heavy, I pretend it’s snowing in purgatory. But you don’t want to catch this stuff on your tongue, ever (speaking of eating people).
Movies. I get tired of watching the same stories over and over.
Old-fashioned hardcovers are the best. And they smell great.
Rain. My grandfather used to say he could smell the rain coming. I don’t know about that. But there were times when I was visiting him—his house was on a spit that jutted into the bay—and in the distance you could see it coming like a great gray wall. And he’d light a fire and I’d sit in the bay window and watch it coming. You can see a long way across the ocean.