An excerpt from My Sister's Keeper says it best:
I told Seven the Bartender that true love is felonious.
"Not if they're over eighteen," he said, shutting the till of the cash register.
By then the bar itself had become an appendage, a second torso holding up my first. "You take someone's breath away," I stressed. "You rob them of the ability to utter a single word." I tipped the neck of the empty liquor bottle toward him. "You steal a heart."
Seven spread the rag out on the brass bar to dry. "Sounds like a misdemeanor, if you ask me."
I rested my cheek on the cool, damp wood. "No way," I said. "Once you're in, it's for life."
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