There's a hazy smile on her lips that won't go away, and her hair is a mess. It's like a brushfire filled with casualties.

She would do anything, anything to belong to his son after a lifetime of belonging to no one at all.

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

We'll squeeze every second that we can from our lives, because we're young, and we have plenty of years to grow. We'll grow until we're braver. We'll grow until our bones ache and our skin wrinkles and our hair goes white, and until our hearts decide, at last, that it's time to stop.

The sullen boy sitting before me is not my husband, and the girl he is fretting over isn't me, will never be me.

My head is my favorite swimming pool.

Perhaps... you love too fiercely.