A party in the orange grove. The pain on Linden's face is immediate. I am unwavering. He has cost me more pain than I will ever be able to repay.

I lost everyone I loved," I tell him. I wait for him to look at me, and then I add, "The day I met you.

Hope, that risky, illustrious thing. It should have gone extinct by now, but we keep it alive.

You can't be afraid. You can be sad if you like. You can be angry. But it's the fear that'll freeze you in place.

I stare at her collarbone that's framed with lace, the hollow of her throat, her shoulders that rise with each rise with the weight of her next breath. We're fragile things. Our bones show through our skin. What would any god want with us?

It's the silence I imagine in the rest of the world, the silence of an endless ocean and uninhabitable island, a silence that can be seen from space.

We writers are resilient souls.