And we did, and it wasn’t bad. We ate the whole stupid can, we were so hungry. And when it started to get dark you pointed to the sky, and told me there was a star for every thing you loved about me.” I’m gasping, feeling as though I am about to drown; I’m reaching for him blindly, grabbing at his collar.

I didn’t know it would be like this,” he says in a whisper. And then: “I’m scared.

Let me tell you something about dying: it's not as bad as they says. it's the coming-back-to-life part that hurts.

Is this freedom? Is it happiness? I don't know. I don't care anymore. It is different--it is being alive.

His eyes are the color of honey. These are the eyes I remember from my dreams.

I feel an overwhelming rush of sadness... I'm just struck with a sense of time passing so quickly, rushing forward. One day I'll wake up and my whole life will be behind me, and it will seem to have gone as quickly as a dream.

It's the way he says my name: like music.