What you leave behind is the people you loved. You leave yourself in them.
She kept walking. The very small, brave part of her brain knew that this would be her one chance. If she turned around, she would lose it.
But like everything else, love changed.
Sometimes you couldn’t face the sadness of being forgotten until you felt the comfort of being remembered again.
To write a story, I think you really have to open yourself up to the world.
Bridget's anger evaporated and the sadness came back. The anger was easier. She owned and contolled it, whereas the sadness owned her.