He really was beautiful. I know boys aren’t supposed to be, but he was.

Because no one thought she was a person, she had no one to really talk to.

And he found himself thinking that maybe stories don't just make us matter to each other - maybe they're also the only way to the infinite mattering he'd been after for so long.

What happens in the band room stays in the band room.

Is that what relationships become? A reduced version of the hurt, nothing else let in. It was more than that. I know it was more than that.

What a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a person.

We think that we are invincible because we are.