Once you think a thought, it is extremely difficult to unthink it.

I pulled the oxygen tubes from my nostrils and raised the tube up over my head, handing it to Dad. I wanted it to be just me and just him.

She waited for me to play out the string, to find the place where she had stopped and was waiting for me, to follow the breadcrumb tail until it dead-ended into her.

We all romanticize the people we adore.

I didn't want to see them lower him into the ground in the spot he'd picked out with his dad, and I didn't want to see his parents sink to their knees in the dew-wet grass and moan in pain.

I kept waiting for that loneliness and nervousness to make me want to go back. But it never did.

We are as indestructible as we believe ourselves to be.