It's too late. I've seen things...I've lost things you can't understand.
I reach out and grab her wrist. It feels impossibly tiny in my hand, like this one time I found a baby bird near goose Point, and I picked it up and it died there, taking its final gasping fluttering breaths in my palm.
I love you. Remember. And someday, I will find you again.
Mistake, mistake, mistake. A strange word: stinging, somehow.
Lindsay calls them the Pugs: pretty from far away, ugly up close.
People are like ants: Just a few of them give all the orders. And most of them spend their lives getting squashed.