Every breath, every heartbeat, was one less until maybe things stopped hurting this much.

I shrug him off. 'Can't you just go away?" There's a moment. It has a sound in it, as if something very small got broken.

Should we say something?’ Cal asks. ‘Goodbye, bird?’ I suggest. He nods. ‘Goodbye, bird. Thank you for coming. And good luck.

I want to die in my own way. It's my illness, my death, my choice. This is what saying yes means.

When I first saw Ellie, I knew it was her-- she was my fantasy. I didn't want it to be true, but every time I met her it was obvious, and the funny thing was that she was better than the fantasy, like I got more stuff than I'd imagined.

Then she says, ‘I love you.’ Like three drops of blood falling onto snow.

Every seven years our bodies change, every cell. Every seven years, we disappear.