I play until my fingertips are raw. Until I rip a nail and bleed on the strings. Until my hands hurt so bad I forget my heart does.

It's only the body that's gone. Only the body. There's a part that doesn't go in the ground, a part that stays inside you forever.

You are a ghost, Andi," she says. "Almost gone." I look at her. I want to say something but I can't get the words out. She squeezes my hands. "Come back to us," she says. And she's gone.

I could almost hear the characters inside, murmuring and jostling, impatient for me to open the cover and let them out.

Bravery is feeling fear but doing the thing anyway.

Sometimes, when you catch someone unaware at just the right time and in just the right light, you can catch sight of what they will be.

Because just for a few seconds, someone else hurts, too. For just a few seconds, I'm not alone.