She perched on her windowsill, gazing at the lurid sun soaking into the Caldera, trying to appreciate it even though she couldn’t have it. Why did she always feel she had to do something in the face of beauty?

What made you feel that stomach-churning agony for one person and not another? If Bridget were God, she would have made it against the law for you to feel that way about someone without them having to feel it for you right back.

I love you, I'll never stop.

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.

Lena always described how she dreaded and mourned things before they even happened. Carmen was beginning to suspect that she was permitting herself to mourn this long separation only now that it was over.

Don't talk to me. I'm tired and grumpy and I'll probably make fun of you.

This body is breaking down, but I am not.