And if I have to die trying, I will get out of here.

Maybe hope isn't the most dangerous thing a person can have. Maybe love is.

So how long do you think it’ll be?” he says. “Before the next hurricane comes along to take you home.” “Can I tell you my biggest fear?” I say. “Yes. Tell me.” “That it will be a very windless four years.

Forget who you are and what you think is there, and you'll discover things that don't exist to be known.

I've done it all before, I tell myself, and I can do it again. Trust is the strongest weapon.

And then I wonder, does my brother think of me this way? We entered this world together, one after the other, beats in a pulse. But I will be first to leave it. That's what I've been promised. When we were children, did he dare to imagine an empty space beside him where I then stood giggling, blowing soap bubbles through my fingers? When I die, will he be sorry that he loved me? Sorry that we were twins? Maybe he already is.

The trick was looking past the illusion, because the exit was never as far away as it seemed.