"Did you know,” Granny said in monotone, “that you are not eighteen years of age?” I replayed her statement in my mind, and…I sensed she believed the words she spoke, no matter how ridiculous they sounded. “The week your mother died,” she continued, “you physically aged two years…within an hour.” Granny looked at me, plain-faced, her mouth closed with no intention of saying another word. “What’re you talking about?” I asked, my lips lifting at the absurdity. “You sound like a lunatic.” “Do I look like a lunatic?” “Yes! Always. It’s your thing.”
Sydney writes about the type of women that populate the world. Well, okay, maybe they're not witches, vampires, and shifters, but you know - the strong, smart, and witty type.