I know what the problem is, of course. The disorientation, the distraction, the difficulty focusing - all classic Phase One signs of deliria. But I don't care. If pneumonia felt this good I'd stand out in the snow in the winter with bare feet and no coat, or march into the hospital and kiss pneumonia patients

Of course. That's what people do in a disordered world, a world of freedom and choice: they leave when they want. They disappear, they come back, they leave again. And you are left to pick up the pieces on your own.

Somewhere in the endless spinning of eternity that one, tiny, fraction of a second where our lips met is lost forever.

I guess there are some things you never get used to.

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

It occurs to me that for a long time she has been doing her own version of resisting.

I want to know." His words are a whisper, barely audible. "I want to know with you.