Maybe next time, but probably not.

I'll find you," he says, watching me with the eyes I remember. "I won't let you go again

I guess that’s just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up.

Who knows? Maybe they’re right. Maybe we are driven crazy by our feelings. Maybe love is a disease, and we would be better off without it. But we have chosen a different road. And in the end that is the point of escaping the cure: We are free to choose. We are even free to choose the wrong thing.

The memories seem like snapshots from someone else’s life.

Hope keeps you alive.

But the guilt goes even deeper than that. It, too, is dust: Layers and layers of it have accumulated. Because if it weren’t for me, Lena and Alex would never have been caught at all. I told on them. I was jealous. God forgive me, for I have sinned.