“I hear voices,” I say, stopping abruptly.
He whirls around, face totally blank, and says, “And I see dead people—face it, Emilia, you’re not the only one eligible for fucked-up-citizen-of-the-year award.”
...Is the only line I have written for a story that I sort of want to write. It's about a fountain. I know, lame, right? Whatever. I guess I have a thing for water features.