The Gunman is useless. I know it. He knows it. The whole bank knows it.
Tears were frozen to the book theif's face.
She closes the door completely, and I crouch there. I allow myself to fall forward and rest my head on the door frame. My breath bleeds. My heartbeat drowns my ears.
I guess that’s the beauty of books. When they finish they don’t really finish.
I s'pose, I can't have it all my own way, can I? You can't drown in a person unless they let you.
Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.