Both of us will die today, gunned down or smashed up or exploded in some terrible moment of fire and twisted metal, and when they go to bury us we'll be so melted together and entwined they won't be able to separate the bodies; pieces of him will go with me, and pieces of me will go with him.

A room full of words that are nearly the truth but not quite, each note fluttering off the steam of its rose like a broken butterfly wing.

My heart is fluid and soaring. There's no longer any space between heartbeats.

There is no before. There is only now, and what comes next.

that's what it was like waking up in the crypts. no-longer-dead. but without her. like burning alive.

That's the thing about best friends. That's what they do. They keep you from spinning off the edge.

I cry for everything I abandoned and because I, too, have been left behind -- by Alex, by my mom, by time that has cut through our worlds and separated us.