I don't dare touch her. Loss is a knowledge I'm sorry to have. Perhaps the only thing worse than experiencing it, is watching it replay anew in someone else--all the awful stages picking up like a chorus that has to be sung.

who once had dreams of saving the world, now laughs at anyone who tries.

He looks at me, and I don't know what he sees. I used to think it was Rose. But she's not here with us now, in this room. It's just him and me, and the books. I feel like our lives are in those books. I feel like all the words on the pages are for us.

Momentum,' She repeats. 'You can't just stand there if you want something to fly. You have to run.

But instead of tears, when I press my face against the pillow, a horrible, primal scream comes out of me. It's unlike anything I thought myself capable of. Rage, unlike anything I've ever known.

It is the face of a girl who has seen the world, who realizes that it hates her, and who hates it in return.

A strange thing, words. Once they're said, it's hard to imagine they're untrue.