You?' is all I can manage to choke out. 'Always me,' she replies softly, bashfully. 'Who else?

Something special is ending, and you're sad, but you can't be that said because, hey, it was good while it lasted, and there'll be other vacations, other good times.

I can keep picking small fights, or brave the big one. Time to screw my courage. Or go down trying.

The politeness was painful. I wanted to push through it, to return to the glow of the night of the concert, but I was unsure of how to get back there.

But then Mason touches my neck, to the spot on it where the cut from that night has since healed, and I pull away. He was right, after all; it didn't leave a scar, though part of me wishes it had. At least I'd have some evidence, some justification of this permanence. Stains are even worse when you're the only one who can see them.

Forgivenesss: It's a miracle drug. It's God's miracle drug.

Fake it till you make it actually worked.