Loving someone is such an inherently dangerous act. And yet, love, that’s where safety lives.

Anything can happen in one day.

The little things that happen. Sometimes they're insignificant; other times, they change everything.

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

Who says I breathe music? Who says I even breathe?

There were signs. Probably more of them than I ever caught, even after the fact. But I missed them all. Maybe because I wasn’t looking for them. I was too busy checking over my shoulder at the fire I’d just come through to pay much attention to the thousand-foot cliff looming in front of me.

For the hundredth time tonight, I’m back with Lulu, on Jacques’s barge, the improbably named Viola. She’d just toldme the story of double happiness and we were arguing over the meaning. She’d thought it meant the luck of the boy getting the job and the girl. But I’d disagreed. It was the couplet fitting together, the two halves finding each other. It was love. But maybe we were both wrong, and both right. It’s not either or, not luck or love. Not fate or will. Maybe for double happiness, you need both.