Exist by Belinda Roddie Fiona knew that the perfect woman didn't exist, but my god, did Max come close. Max was beautiful, fashionable, witty, open-minded, savvy with technology, wise beyond her years, goofy when least expected but always when appropriate, and of course, compassionate. But there was only one issue: This gorgeous gal didn't believe in love. Not one bit.

Useful by Belinda Roddie This bent fork is still somehow useful to eat spaghetti with. And this warped spoon can still be helpful with eating soup. And this cracked cup still holds water, while this chipped bowl...well, it holds the spaghetti I'm eating. So I can say I'm pretty content with the sparse materials that I have in this otherwise godforsaken hellhole.

Orbit by Belinda Roddie I am the last one to resist Dorothy's gravitiational pull. The rest of the world orbits around her, but I remain the last lonely planet distanced from the rest of the solar system. Not that I'd compare her to a sun, though she explodes with an artificial light that burns more than it heals or nourishes. Just call me Pluto - I'll see y'all in hundreds of years before I even get close to her.

Debut by Belinda Roddie Even though Megan had written three books already, the fourth one published was treated as a debut because no one had read her prior material. Not that she blamed them - she had used to write in such a manic and overly stream-of-conscious fashion, hitting too much on the absurdism and not enough on the romance. She knew what kind of audience she had to cater to, and it worked. Brought in the cash, too.

Lost by Belinda Roddie "Are you lost?" I asked the little boy. He shook his head. "No," he replied, his cheeks slightly pink from the autumn chill. "I'm never lost. You can't be lost when you don't have somewhere to be found." "Do you...not have a home?" "Oh, I do." He beamed. "It's just that everywhere's home to me. I like to pick and choose."

Appear by Belinda Roddie You always appear when you think I need you, don't you? You and your purple cotton candy hair. You and your red overalls. You and your forced manic pixie dream girl aesthetic and demeanor. I don't need you, and yet, you're here. Trying to prove something to me. When I'm frankly not remotely interested. But I'll take you out for ice cream, anyway. And you'll always pick the churro flavor.

Songs by Belinda Roddie "Before you leave," crooned Mrs. Levitz, "sing me one of your little songs. The ones you wrote when you were a teenager. They're just so delightful." "Are you kidding? They're angsty as hell." "And you think I won't enjoy that?" Mrs. Levitz chuckled, waggling a stout finger at her niece. "I love myself a bit of angst. Now, get that guitar of yours out of the garage and start moping about something."