He killed himself for wanting to live.

We're silent now, both waiting, till I remind myself that I'm the older one and should therefore initiate conversation. But I don't. I don't want to waste this girl with idle chitchat. She's beautiful.

You might argue that I make the rounds no matter what year it is, but sometimes the human race likes to crank things up a little. They increase the production of bodies and their escaping souls.

If you can't imagine it, think clumsy silence. Think bits and pieces of floating despair. And drowning in a train.

Fear is shiny. Ruthless in the eyes.

The human child – so much cannier at times than the stupefyingly ponderous adult.

I’m Angelina,” she says. “Are you here to save us?” I can see a tiny spark of hope awaken in her eyes. “You’re right, Angelina - I’m here to save you.” “Can you? Really?” “I’ll try,” I say and the girl smiles.