I like your shoes,” I said. Because I did. They were pink and pointed, and I wanted a pair like that so bad. My mom and dad groaned. Morgan looked at me and cocked his head.“Thank you, little one. I made them out of the tears of a succubus and a lightning-struck tree stump I found under the Winter Moon. I like your face.”I grinned. “Thank you, big one. My parents made it when they got married. I was a honeymoon baby, whatever that means.
-T.J. Klune
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