It was true; always had been. Friendships were like marriages in that way. Routines and patterns were poured early and hardened like cement.

...This fear was unbearable. It unwrapped who she was, as neatly as he'd unwound her bandage, leaving too much pain and ugliness exposed. Nerve endings; he'd said they were the problem [causing phantom pain in the amputated limb]." Things that cut off, that ended abruptly or died--like parents and marriages--kept hurting forever.

He is a man, and he is afraid. This is not a good combination.

You couldn't give up you for them. But what if you wanted them more than you wanted a singular powerful you?

Then he left her there, standing alone, surrounded by word ghosts; things she could have said.

When you get . . . to the end, you see that love and family are all there is. Nothing else matters.

I didn't know how...deep love ran, how it was in your blood, not your heart, and how that same blood pumped through your veins your whole life.