I could step out of this sad life like it's an old sorry dress.

And then he smiles, and in all the places around the globe where it's night, day breaks.

Our tongues have fallen madly in love and gotten married and moved to Paris.

I can't shove the dark out of my way.

There once was a girl who found herself dead. She peered over the ledge of heaven and saw that back on earth her sister missed her too much, was way too sad, so she crossed some paths that would not have crossed, took some moments in her hand shook them up and spilled them like dice over the living world. It worked. The boy with the guitar collided with her sister. "There you go, Len," she whispered. "The rest is up to you.

This is it--what all the hoopla is about, what Wuthering Heights is about--it all boils down to this feeling rushing through me in this moment with Joe as our mouths refuse to part. Who knew all this time I was one kiss away from being Cathy and Juliet and Elizabeth Bennet and Lady Chatterley!?

What kind of world is this? And what do you do about it? What do you do when the worst thing that can happen actually happens?