According to all the experts, it's time for me to talk about what I'm going through... I can't. I'd need a new alphabet, one made of falling, of tectonic plates shifting, of the deep devouring dark.

We were all heading for each other on a collision course, no matter what. Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.

This is what I want: I want to grab my brother’s hand and run back through time, losing years like coats falling from our shoulders.

He smiles and takes his index finger and presses it to my lips, leaves it there until my heart lands on Jupiter: three seconds, then removes it, and heads back into the living room. Whoa - well, that was either the dorkiest or sexiest moment of my life, and I'm voting for sexy on account of my standing here dumbstruck and giddy, wondering if he did kiss me after all.

How can the word love, the word life, even fit in the mouth?

Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.

People die, I think, but your relationship with them doesn't. It continues and is ever-changing.