As she watched all of this, Liesel was certain that these were the poorest souls alive. That's what she wrote about them . . . Some looked appealingly at those who had come to observe their humiliation, this prelude to their deaths. Others pleaded for someone, anyone to step forward and catch them in their arms. No one did.

Competence was attractive.

Have faith, Ed, all right?' I search the coffee mug, but there's none in there.

He prefers not to ruin things with any more questions. What it is is what it is.

... And the boy whose hair remained the color of lemons forever.

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.

Disbelief held me down inside my footsteps, making my body heavy but my heart wild.