What does it feel like to be infected?" "I-- I can't describe it." I force the words out. Can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe. His skin smells like smoke from a wood fire, like soap, like heaven. I imagine tasting his skin; I imagine biting his lips. "I want to know." His words are a whisper, barely audible. "I want to know with you.

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.

I vowed after that day that I would be your hero too, no matter how long it took

He looked at me like I was beautiful.

That’s what you do for family. Anything.

Holy mother of Lord Cocoa Puffs

I feel a flash of grief so intense it almost makes me cry out: not for what I lost, but for the chances I missed.