Jennifer Croft

“Does it hurt?" we finally heard her whisper, and in that moment, she was achingly beautiful, beautiful almost beyond belief: She was warmth, she was moisture, she was light, she was the adamant perfection of a million billion snowflakes in a split second's descent, she was tender, she was eternal, and she was memory, and she was love.”
― Jennifer Croft, The Extinction of Irena Rey

“The Czech chandelier was made of ten little skulls and too many bones for us to count. The house was filled with storied objects: dark portraits of her ancestors in scalloped, gilded frames; a grand piano, never played; massive chests with cavernous keyholes; a Bozdoğan mace; a solid-bronze candelabra, three feet high, with nine tendriling, gravity-defying arms. Around the living room hung suits of armor that fortified our feeling that her home was our fortress, our defense against the wrongheaded world.”
― Jennifer Croft, The Extinction of Irena Rey